A Second Chance
by Xany Kaos
Summary: Toad is rescued after his encounter with Storm by four friends and tries to figure out what he really wants in life now that the Brotherhood seems disbanded. COMPLETED!
1. Beginnings

(Author's notes are long, feel free to skip.)   
  


*** Author's Notes: Toad's always been kind of intresting, but always just a bit too annoying for me to get into. Then I watched the X-men movie again the other night and couldn't help but noticing how cool he was in the movie. His character was the only real smart alec aside from Wolverine, and that it came across with all of, what, three lines at most was impressive. I also like the bit of British punk I saw in him, as opposed to the ghetto-boy from Evo. that I'm used to, and who couldn't like those big, dark eyes. I felt it a shame that he was eliminated before what could have been an intresting character got developed. Soo.....I felt the need to play. Some excuses -- I don't know much about New York, being a very Southern girl myself (yes, yes, I should have done my homework. sorry). I somehow doubt that people are allowed to boat in the harbor around the statue of Liberty, but it worked for the story. Also, I did look up a bit about treating electrical burns, but let's just attribute any kind of medical things to the miracle of fiction, shall we? Finally, if you just want to get to the Toad-y goodness, just read the last para. Pleeeease stick with me. It'll be good. Promise!) 

End Author's Notes   
  


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"Gabby, for the love of God, get out on this deck and enjoy some sun!"  
  


"Yeah, not a cloud in the sky, cool breeze blowin'. Ya don't know what you're missing, girl!"  
  


"You guys can go ahead and toast your skin to a nice, crispy bronze color. I'll take my well-earned geek-pale," came a voice from inside the cabin of the boat. On the deck, the tanners laughed.  
  


"Oh, come on. Micheal's dad lent us the boat for the weekend, the least you can do is come out and enjoy some real weather," joked one girl, pulling her thick brown hair into a makeshift pony-tail so a muscular young man could smear tanning lotion on her back.  
  


"She's just miffed because we dragged her away from her computor for two whole days, Angie," he chuckled.  
  


"And my canvases, and my paints, and my projects!" whined Gabby in a pentulant voice.   
  


"Oh, come on, Gab. Even I'm out here, and I'm hardly a sun-baby," insisted a pale, red-haired girl in sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, judiciously applying SPF 100 lotion to her freckled skin.  
  


"Mmph...it's so bright," Gabby muttered, emerging from the cabin and shading her eyes with a hand.   
  


"It's called 'sunglasses,' sweetheart." Micheal tossed her a pair. "Now get over here and grease up."  
  


"Right, right, right..."grumbled Gabby, climbing up on the deck. Micheal passed her the bottle and began slathering her back for her.  
  


"It is such a nice day," said Zoey, the redhead. "An' look, you can see Lady Liberty in all her glory."  
  


"Mm, yeah, nice." Gabby squinted towards the statue. "So, what went down last night? That thing on the news with all the colors and lights?"  
  


"Don't you ever pay attention?" sighed Angie, picking up a magazine and settling onto a blanket.  
  


"Not unless the anchor's cute, and I've yet to see that."  
  


"Right on!" Gabby and Zoey hi-fived each other in agreement that cute boys were part of what made things worthwhile.  
  


"They haven't said. I heard some people talking about mutant terrorist," said Micheal, squinting up at the blue sky. "Pisses me off to hear that. Just because something goes wrong, people blame it on mutants. Like that Senator Kelly."  
  


"I hear ya," agreed Angie. It was common knowledge among the four that Micheal's old girlfriend had been a mutant, and was a darn decent person. There was a comfotable silence among the four friends. A three-day weekend away from college work and worries on a boat in the now-peaceful harbor, and what really was, in fact, a gorgeous day made them all happily drowzy.   
  


Until...  
  


"Uh, guys...?" Gabby squinched her eyes at the water and pointed. "What's that?"  
  


"Huh?" Micheal rolled over and followed her finger. "Ah, pro'ly just some junk.

This is New York, sweetie. Everything's polluted."  
  


"No..." Angie looked up from her magazine. "I think... it's a person!"  
  


Micheal leapt up and dashed to the front of the boat.  
  


"Oh my God, you're right!"  
  


"So someone's swimming, what's the big deal?" yawned Gabby, stretching. The sun was making her sleepy.  
  


"People don't swim in the Harbor, Gab!" Micheal moved to the back of the boat and cranked the engine on. "We're gonna find out if he's okay."  
  
  
  
  
  


The boat gently putted to a stop near the figure. Micheal leaned over the rope railing.  
  


"Hey, buddy, you okay?" he called. No response. "Hey! You! In the water!" Still nothing. He looked desperately at his friends. Angie sighed and took off her sunglasses.  
  


"Here, put that rope in the water, I'll get him." With that, she dove into the water and breaststroked her way to the injured man. When she had reached him she turned around and yelled,"He's unconcious! He looks pretty badly hurt." She slipped an arm under him and began paddling back to the boat.  
  


"Where'd she learn how to do that?" mused Micheal.  
  


"Lifeguard training, 9th grade, 'member?" Gabby reminded him.  
  


"Oh yeah..."  
  
  
  


The four of them successfully managed to pull the unconcious man onto the deck and Angie began pumping the water from his lungs.  
  


"He's not breathing..." She took a deep breath and, tilting his head back, breathed into his mouth, coming up and grimacing. "Oh, gah--it tastes like a sewer!" Screwing her courage, she bent down and continued, then turned his head to force more water out.  
  


"My God, look at those burns," muttered Micheal, shaking his head in amazement. The man--more an older boy, about their age, really-- was covered in burn marks.  
  


"Electric burns..." murmured Gabby. "Someone brought a dog in after it chewed a wire or something. Looked like this. I didn't know they turned green on a person."  
  


"We should get him to a hospital," Zoey pointed out. Just then, the stranger turned his head and vomited up the last of the water. Still coughing harshly, he managed to croak out,  
  


"No 'ospi'al..." before fainting again.  
  
  
  


********************************************************  
  


Oh my, whoever could it be?! Heheh...


	2. Healing Hands

(***Author's Notes: So, there be Toad-age finally, but not much. Again, I'm not too sure of the proper methods for treating electric burns, or even the exact kind of injuries Toad was likely to have recieved from Storm. The two songs made reference to are both Beatles and are on the Help album. Funn, I just put those particular in because they were stuck in my head, but at least one of them is somewhat fitting. Maybe. R&R, I'm a comment whore, but please be gently. This is a mostly for fun fic)

  
  
  
  


"No, leave his boxers on!" yelped Gabby. Michael paused halfway through the methodical stripping of the stranger, looking annoyed.

"Now, what if he's got burns on--"

"I don't care! If you want to handle that, fine!"

"I'm not the one who was in veterinary school."

"That was only for a semester! I don't think I'm more qualified than anyone here."

"I got the aloe!" Zoey came running into the small room where their stranger was stretched out on the bed, carrying three bottles of the green goo, two completely full.

"Geeze, Zoe, think you brought enough?" muttered Michael.

"Lucky I did. I burn easily." She put the bottles down on a counter and glanced at the boy, then looked away again. "Y'guys mind if I beat it. That's just really disgusting." She shuddered again. Gabby looked at the burns and grimaced. They were more than just disgusting, they were dangerous.

"I really think we should take him to a hospital. These are really serious."

"Yeah, but he said no hospitals. And besides..." Michael waved her over to the end of the bed. "Lookit." He pointed to the stranger's feet. Webbed toes. "I think he's got a real good reason for not wanting to go to a hospital." Gabby sighed.

"A mutant. Lovely. What kind of trouble will we get into for this, I wonder?" Michael glared at her.

"You're not honestly thinking of not helping him, are you?"

"'Course not. What kind of a person do you think I am?" His eyes softened.

"A good person who's got the magic healing touch." He grinned down at her and kissed her forehead. "I'm goin' back up deck. 'Less ya need any help."

"N-nah," Gabby looked at her patient, somewhat unsure. "I think I got it covered. If I need help, I yell. Loudly."

"Cool." Michael ducked out and left the door open a crack.

Gabby ran a hand through her dark blonde hair and turned to her new patient with an apprehensive look. Sighing, she picked out the one roll of bandages and a bottle of aloe and moved to what looked like the worst area.

"Alright, buddy, let's get started..."

  
  


A half hour later, she sat down beside the bed and looked over her handiwork. Not bad for someone who hadn't tied a bandage for almost three years. Especially considering that they'd only had one roll of bandages and some old sheets to use. She wiped her hands on a towel and studied the patient's face. There was definitely a greenish cast to his skin. A silver hoop pierced his left ear. His hair, too, was green, but a color so odd that she wondered if he had dyed it. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to touch it. He whimpered slightly and she pulled her hand away, wondering if she'd missed a burn. He groaned again, his face twitching. She took his hand in hers and laid her other hand on his forehead, stroking it softly as if soothing a fevered child. The conflict in his face ceased, though a pained expression remained. His skin was sweaty, but cool, and she frowned. Shouldn't he be running a fever or something? She continued stroking his forehead, humming quietly and holding his hand. 

She wasn't sure how long she sat like that when suddenly his eyes snapped open and regarded her with a fierce, frightened intensity. She gasped and jerked her hand back.

"Wheh's 'an'ito?" he rasped thickly. She blinked, then grabbed a glass of water from the counter and held his head up.

"Drink." He looked mistrustfully at her, but sucked the water down eagerly. When he had finished, he sank back down again.

"Magneto?" he repeated angrily, dark eyes darting around the room. His voice sounded like he had a mouth full of cotton balls. Maybe cotton balls covered in acid. The burny kind. Gabby shook her head.

"I don't know what that is. You're safe here, but I'd really like to get you to a hospital--" he shook his head as vigorously as possible "--or not." She sighed. "Fine. Just don't blame me if you get sick or something. What the hell happened to you?" He just glared at her. "Alright, don't tell. But the least you can do is give me you name." Again, silence. "Look, we saved your life, the least you can do it tell me what you're called." He glanced away, thinking. Gabby ran a hand through her hair and rolled her eyes, exasperated.

"T'd," he muttered. She looked back at him, surprised.

"Tad?"

"To'd," he tried again. It was difficult to speak clearly; his tongue hurt so much.

"Todd?" Toad sighed and nodded. Close enough. "Well, nice to meet you, Todd," her voice was wry. "I'm Gabby." Yes, you bloody are, he thought angrily. Two white pills entered his line of vision. "Think you can swallow these?"

"Wha'r they?"

"Tylenol. 'S all we got, sorry." He nodded and she helped him sit up and drink again. "Now. Go back to sleep. It's the best thing you can do." He glared at her again from the corner of his eye. "And stop looking at me like that. I told you, you're safe, now go to sleep or I'll...um..." she stopped, not sure if threatening a patient with physical violence was appropriate. "Go to sleep or so help me, I'll sing a lullaby." And she returned his glare, somewhat flustered. Smirking slightly, Toad felt his body relaxing, still taxed from the previous night's battle and his injuries. 

  
  


"So, our mystery man got a name?" asked Michael, walking in sipping a coke. He tossed Gabby one. She tapped the can to wear the fizz down with a glare at her friend. He smiled innocently, trying to convey the message that he would never dream of shaking her coke before handing it to her.

"Yeah. Todd, I think. It's hard to understand him. I think he's got some burns in his mouth."

"Mm." Michael finished his coke and crumpled the can. "Poor guy. What the hell happened to him?"

"Not a clue." Gabby popped her can open and chugged half of it down, then belched softly. "'Scuze me. Ah, sweet sweet caffeine. He hasn't said much. I guess he got into a fight or something." She put the coke down. "You don't think...last night? Could he have been involved in that?"

"So you think it was mutants?" Michael's voice got defensive again. Gabby shook her head.

"No, not necessarily. I think that it's odd that a bunch of weird crap that the media tried to cover up happened last night, and then we find a mutant, or anyone, really, just floating in the harbor, covered in burns. It's weird."

"Truth and fiction, hon," admonished Michael. Gabby rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. We'll find out more when he comes around, I hope." Michael started to leave, then turned back.

"Oh, hey, I fergot. Heard something about last night on the radio. Said they caught some mutant terrorist up on Elis Island. Magnet, or something. So you were right about it being mutants." He ran a hand through his brown hair, looking upset. "They're not all good, I guess."

"Just like the rest of us, Mike. Don' worry 'bout it." 

  
  
  
  


When a fuzzy sort of consciousness began to creep over Toad again the first thing he became aware of was a noise. Music. A song...a familiar one. Big and black the clouds may be...He hummed quietly, trying to place it. Beatles. "Tell Me What You See." And someone with a high voice butchering it.

"Oh gaw'..."he groaned. "Shu' tha' noise." He found it easier to talk if he omitted some of the consonants. The singing abruptly stopped and the radio switched off.

"Don't like the Beatles?" asked Gabby, standing over him again. He raised an eyebrow, trying to convey that Yes, he did indeed like the Beatles, his problem was her. Gabby chuckled and shook her head ruefully. "Yeah, yeah, everyone's a critic. Here. More pills to pop." She handed him more Tylenol and a glass of water and helped him sit up. He drained it and passed it back.

"Can I have som'ore?" She nodded and filled the glass from a water cooler.

"Yeah, you should be drinkin' a lot I--oh my lord!" She broke off, staring at him. He stopped and realized he'd stuck his tongue out just a bit to try and see the damage done. He grinned humorlessly at her, trying to make her uncomfortable. She blinked a few times. 

"Is it supposed to look like that?"

"Li' 'uh'?"

"Um...black and burned." He let his tongue back in his mouth and shook his head. "You burned your tongue too?! What the hell did you do, stick it in a toaster?" 

"Shu' u'," he growled around the tender appendage, glaring at her. She returned the look with equal annoyance. Their eyes locked in a silent battle for a moment. His eyes... Gabby's anger seeped away and she dropped her gaze, exhaling.

"Do you think you can turn over?" she asked calmly, startling him. "I want to have a look at your back now."

With some help, Toad managed to roll onto his stomach gingerly. His body felt stiff and itchy and hot. He hissed softly as Gabby carefully pulled the bandages off his back. He heard a sharp intake from her.

"Mm..." she murmured, pouring water over a small towel. She began washing the leftover aloe from the burns on his back. Gentle as she tried to be, Toad still found himself twitching at her touch. "Good news is it's not as bad as it looks. The worst should heal in a couple of days. With liberal applications of aloe, of course." She grabbed a fresh bottle, then hesitated. "You're not allergic to any kind of medicine, are you?" He shrugged. "Um...do you heal any faster than, um..."

"Humans?" he finished. "So'times." He'd learned from experience that the natural slime from his skin acted as a sort of salve for cuts and burns. He stiffened when he felt her start to rub aloe onto his back.

"Loosen up," she said, squirting some more onto the small of his back and rubbing up toward his shoulders. He stared into space, shocked. Touching him. She was touching him. No one ever touched him, not if they could help it. He took a deep shaking breath. It felt...nice. Especially since the touching involved spreading large amounts of soothing, cool lotion onto his dry, burning skin. Gabby kept talking. "I don't know what we're going to do about you're tongue," she said conversationally. "I mean, that looks like it hurts like hellfire, but we can't put aloe on it or anything, so I guess our best bet is Tylenol and water, for now. Sorry." She continued rubbing the lotion in. Toad closed his eyes, trying to think.

"Why're y' doin' 'is?" he asked suddenly. Gabby stopped short and looked down at him.

"Cuz aloe's the best thing we've got for burns." Toad shook his head.

"No, I 'ean..." She cut him off.

"Because it's what you do. You don't just leave someone alone when they're hurt and need help. You don't just leave people to die. At least, we don't." Toad's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, but she continued. "Now stop talking. Let your tongue heal. Get some sleep, alright? Michael'll dock us in the morning." She wiped her hands on a towel and turned to go. "Hey, y'want the CD player on?" Toad shrugged gingerly. He heard a click followed by the sound of the door shutting, then John's sweet voice began to sing about a face he couldn't forget. 

  
  


Gabby sighed and slumped next to her friends and stared up at the night sky, absently missing the stars from back home.

"So, how is he?" Zoe asked, passing her a hamburger. Gabby took it gratefully and devoured most of it before responding.

"Doin' okay, I guess. Don' know what happened to him." She gulped down the last bite of her sandwich and grimaced. "He's not exactly the most friendly guy in the world."

"He is a mutant, isn't he?" asked Angie. Michael nodded.

"Not a doubt," Gabby confirmed. Angie shifted uncomfortably.

"Stacy was so...normal," she murmured, referring to Michael's old girlfriend. Michael immediately bristled, but said nothing. Gabby nodded tiredly.

"Yeah, well, takes all kinds, I guess. Can't say I've ever seen a seriously physical mutation up close, but as our big brother is so fond of reminding me, this is New York. Weird crap happens up here."

"Sure beats home, huh?" Zoey grinned, taking a sip from her soda.

"Oh hell yeah." Gabby folded her arms behind her head and stretched out on the deck. The sky was still that weak shade of navy, dulled by the city lights. "Miss the stars though."

  
  
  
  


The third time Toad regained consciousness, he had the presence of mind not to announce it with groaning or movement. He wanted to think and that was difficult to do with the talkative blonde girl forcing medicine on him and asking the wrong questions. Not like he was in any state to answer them, anyway. Magneto had been captured, he had heard that much before drifting off to sleep. Which meant the Brotherhood was more or less "no more." He closed his eyes and tried to think back to the last thing he could remember before this...

The weather witch--what was her name?--Storm. Right. How apt. He allowed himself a brief moment of bitterness. Even Xavier's pets got cool code-names. Why had he been stuck with the name "Toad?" Admittedly, it was better than "Frog"...maybe. Focus! Storm...and being struck by lightning ("Struck by lightning! Struck by lightning!" called a half-remembered voice from a childhood story. He ignored it). Then the pain. Suddenly frozen, colder than the ninth circle of hell, and at the same time, every nerve on fire. He could feel himself sweating just remembering it. And then...

Oh God! The water. The dark, never-ending, thrashing water and the screaming screaming "For God's sake, kill it! Kill it, Jonathan!" A woman. And strong arms holding him under and his own weak ones flailing and every breath he drew to scream his fear only sucked more and more of the suffocating liquid in and---

"Hey! Hey! Todd! Wake up, man! Dude!" Toad's eyes snapped open and he saw a young man's concerned face over him. He could feel hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. He gasped, gulping in air as if he had been denied it, and tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down. He struggled for a moment, and then it all came back to him. He lay still, his own breathing sounding ragged in his ears, the only sound he could hear as the crash of the nightmare waves faded. He stared up at the new face, trying to mask his fear with a glare, and knowing his eyes were too wide for it to wholly succeed. The other boy released his shoulders and backed up. Toad took another deep swallow of air and tried to think. 

"Where's Gabby?" he managed after a moment spent dredging up the name. The other boy smiled with relief to see his patient coherent and gestured to the door.

"Up on deck, catching a quick nap. She told me to ask if you wanted some more Tylenol, but I think you'll O.D. if you keep popping those things."

"Mm." Toad didn't know what to say, and so said nothing.

"'Name's Michael, by the way." The burly youth offered a hand. Toad stared at it for a while, confused. After a moment of awkward silence, Michael lowered it, somewhat fluster. It was only then that Toad remembered what people were supposed to do when somebody held their hand out to you. 

"Sorry," he slurred, looking away. Michael shrugged. Toad looked at the wall for a few minutes, thinking. Then... "Thanks," he muttered almost inaudibly. Michael brightened.

"Ah, hell, it's Gab ya need ta thank. She's the one who fixed you up. Or tried to."

"Whaddaya mean 'tried to,' big brother?" Both men turned to see Gabby leaning on the doorframe, watching them both with a wry expression. "He'll live, right? I done did good." Michael laughed.

"Yeah, you did. Better'n I could, anyway."

"You can say that again. Now get up there and dock this boat." She yawned sleepily, belatedly covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Scootch."

"Aye-aye, ma'am!" Michael saluted her and left the room. Gabby began packing the various items that lay scattered about the room. Without looking up, she addressed Toad.

"So, no hospitals?" she asked conversationally. Toad shook his head.

"No." And then, as an afterthought, "Please." Gabby looked up, startled. She grinned and resumed her task.

"So, what do you want us to do with you? Ya got any friends or hangouts in the city? Anywhere to go?"

Toad started to give the address to a place that he had often driven the rest of the Brotherhood to, located in the city. From there, he could get in touch with Magneto and-- no. That's right. Magneto had been captured. The Brotherhood had been defeated, and he officially had no one in the country left. He closed his mouth, his face grim, and shook his head.

"N'. N'where."

Gabby paused and eyed the last bottle of aloe that she held for a moment, still not looking up at him.

"Think you can walk? Get by?" Toad was expecting a dismissal and nodded, murmuring an affirmative sound. To his surprise, the girl snorted and stuffed the aloe into a tote bag. "Ch'yeah, right. Prove it. Sit up on your own." Toad blinked, irritated. So, what? She though he couldn't handle pain. Determinedly, he posted himself up on one hand and forced himself into a sitting position, though muscle and skin screamed in agony and his head had started to spin. He turned a defiant glare in her direction. She merely eyed him impassively.

"Okay, sure. So walk."

Angrily, but carefully, he lowered himself from the bed and stood up, unsteady on normally strong legs. With fierce determination, he picked up one foot--

And suddenly felt himself sagging in someone's arms. Gabby struggled for a moment and propped him back on the bed. He moaned softly and sagged.

"Oh Gaw', my 'ead," he whimpered, rubbing his temples. The rest of his body was protesting the previous movement quiet vigorously, letting him know that it did not approve at all of the attempt. When he finally got the courage to open his eyes and look up, he found Gabby's face only a few inches from his own, finger to her lips, studying him.

"So...nowhere to go and in no condition to be on your own, eh?" She tapped her lips in thought. "Well, guess that means you stay with us."

"Wha--?" Toad wasn't sure he'd heard write. Gabby grinned and shrugged.

"What's that they say? 'You save a man's life, you're responsible for him,' somethin' like that." She paused. "Mike still lives with his parents, and Zoey's in a dorm, but Ang and me share an apartment, so I guess you can crash there until you're better." Toad just stared at her. "I mean, if that's okay with you. We could just leave you on the dock or wherever the hell you'd like. Whatever." Toad blinked and looked at the floor. So this normal, homo sapien inferior, this human was offering him crash space. They had already saved his life, bandaged his wounds, and now they were going to give him a place to recover, and hopefully lie low. Wasn't there a story like this? One of the brothers read it to us. Parable or some shyte. Yes, now he could remember, vaguely. Some stranger found a man beaten up on the side of the road and helped him. Funny thing was, Toad couldn't remember for the life of him if the Bible had ever mentioned the beaten man's reaction to it all. He ran a hand through his damp hair, took a deep breath, then looked back at the girl and nodded, once.

"Thank you."


	3. Getting to Know You

  


(***Author's Notes: Thanks to all y'all who reviewed! Big lurvles to you all. To quote Dr. Zoidberg: "Hurray! People are paying attention to me!" And a really big thank you to Guin [luv your story! Yay Mort!], who pointed out what could easily have grown into a rather icky problem with my teenagers [I say teenagers, they're all, like, 20-ish]. I was about halfway thru this chapter when I got the head's up, so I don't know if I've caught anything in time. This chapter was kinda hard to write. Y'ever have that thing were you've got a point A and a point C in your story, but B isn't quite so well fleshed out. This would be most of B. Also, dialogue...I'm having trouble getting dialogue that isn't the way I talk, that is, that isn't sprinkled with phrases from British to Spanish. Merf...At least I'm startin' to see the characters a bit better. ANYWAY...on with the fic! Oh, BTW, is there a way to italicize things on ff.n? I'm miffed because I'm loosing my vocal emphases. Ack, and I've been forgetting! Toad and all the X-men stuff do be (c) Marvel. Not mine. *sigh*)

Chapter Three:Getting to Know You

(Or: A Whole Lot of Nothing.)  


  
  
  
  


Outside of the apartment, Michael half helped/half carried Toad, dressed in Michael's spare cloths, up the front steps as Angie and Gabby took care of the cab fare. Zoey had already been dropped off at her dorm. The two girls grabbed their luggage and hurried after Michael into the building.

Toad did his best to stay conscious while in the elevator, but just standing was making him woozy. It was embarrassing--he always had perfect control over his body, as skilled as any gymnast, and here he was, weak as a kitten, leaning on a perfect stranger, incapable of even walking on his own. Mmph... he eyed the two girls in front of him. The brunette was pretty, but something about her seemed haughty. Trouble there, probably.

The doors opened with a ding and Toad felt himself being dragged down the hallway and came to enough to move his feet a bit. Outside of a door, Angie fumbled through her purse and produced an enormous key-chain. After fiddling with it, she finally located the right key and opened the door. Michael walked in first and helped Toad lower himself onto a sofa. Toad muttered something that might have been a "Thank you" and almost immediately passed out.

"Well, mission accomplished, I guess." Michael turned to the girls, shrugging muscles made sore by carrying the mutant into the room. "Now what?" The three of them looked blankly at each other. Suddenly, Gabby clapped her hands and bounced with glee.

"Oh, we can play house and dress-up with him!" she squealed in a child-like voice. Her friends turned to look at her as if she had lost her mind and she doubled over, chuckling in her normal tone. "Ah, just messin' y'all." She grinned up at them. "Just needed to break the silence. I guess we just let him stay here until he can move."

"I don't know about this," Angie said, looking in askance at the unconscious mutant sprawled, half-sitting, on the couch. "I mean, it's kinda creepy. Some guy we don't even know staying here. And we're all alone. What if he tries something?"

"I'll hand his hindquarters to him gift-wrapped, that's what," said Gabby, looking smug. Michael grabbed her in a head-lock without warning.

"And who taught ya to do that, eh? Eh?" he demanded, giving her a ferocious noogie. Gabby yelped and struggled.

"Guys! Please!" Angie protested. "He's sleeping!" The two broke up, looking sheepish.

"Right, well...I do have to get going," said Michael, scuffing the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Look, if I can, I'll drop by for a while, if that'll make you feel any better."

"It will, hon, thanks." Angie wrapped her arms around him and they kissed. Turning to Gabby, he gave her a big bear hug and started towards the door. 

"Don't worry. I always look after my little sisters, don't I?" he said, giving them a wave and closing the door behind them.

"So..." Angie started, looking back at their new roommate. Gabby grabbed a purse and started for the door. "Where are you going?" Angie demanded, a note of panic rising in her voice.

"Store. We need some more aloe and Tylenol, other junk like that. Figured I'd make a quick shopping run so we can all get settled." She grinned mischievously. "Maybe some dorritos and chex mix. It'll be like a slumber party." Angie eyed her friend.

"Look, let me go, okay. I'll pick up what we need," she said in a voice that was a bit too hurried. Gabby's grin diminished as she studied her friend. She seemed scared. Not that Gabby could blame her. Being alone with a strange man, especially a green mutant was a nerve-wracking idea, no matter how kindly disposed one was to mutants. She sighed and tossed the purse to Angie.

"Yeah, sure. Like I said, Tylenol, aloe...Look and see if they have anything else for burns. Umm..." She fished a piece of paper from her pocket and jotted something down. "And get some of this stuff, too."

"What is it?" asked Angie, taking the paper.

"Numbs up your mouth. My sister used it when she got braces. This guy looks like he could use it." Angie nodded and left. "And don't forget the dorritos!" Gabby called after her.

Her friend gone, Gabby walked to a chair and sank down in it with a loud exhale. So much for that relaxing weekend. Her eye flickered to the corner where her latest painting was propped, waiting to be finished. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, her gaze wandering around the room. 

Toad's eyes were open, intently fixed on her, belying the languid way his body was lying slumped on the couch as Michael had left him. She stifled a surprised squeak at the intensity of his gaze. Green skin, webbed toes, a long tongue were all odd, but his eyes were almost the strangest thing about him. So dark and large. And intelligent, but almost cruel, not human at all, really. And focused on her. She licked suddenly dry lips and fumbled for a bit.

"Um..h'llo again," she managed to stutter out. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Todd." Toad blinked a few times. Todd? Oh, that's right. Ah well, no harm in a pseudonym. Todd it was then. He grinned slightly, still distrustful. With a soft groan, Gabby pushed herself from the chair. "Want anything to drink? We got tea, coffee, coke..."

"Coffee'd be nice," he murmured. His tongue was feeling much better, but he winced to think of trying to drink anything carbonated right now. And he'd long ago learned that Americans just can't make decent tea. It was probably that hideous iced stuff anyway. Gabby nodded happily and swept of to the kitchen area. Toad hunched over in a more comfortable position, with his elbows on his knees.

As the girl puttered around in the kitchen, Toad let himself take in the rest of the apartment. Across from him a television sat on a low table hooked up to a playstation2. A stack of DVDs and CDs was piled next to it. On the wall by the door a was a computer desk. The model on it was fairly decent and Toad's fingers itched with a sudden desire to tinker and overclock it. In the far corner he saw canvases shoved in disarray, painting supplies scattered about a sketchbook on the ground. The front canvas showed a half-finished illustration of what looked like a child in a battle. A hallway opened to two rooms, presumably a bedroom and a bathroom. He craned his neck to look behind him. A bar-style counter separated the small kitchen area from the main room. 

Gabby walked back into the living area and handed him a large mug with a local radio station printed on the side. 

"Thanks luv," he muttered, taking it from her. She blinked and looked startled for a second, then settled back in her chair and took a long sip from her black "Mind the Gap" mug.

"You British?" she asked. He nodded and made an "Mm-hm" sound into his cup. They both drank in silence. After a while, Gabby put down her cup. "So..." she began. Talking to an injured patient was easy. Trying to start an actual conversation was more difficult.

"Michael--'e's y'brother?" he asked, still sipping slowly from the mug, careful of his injured tongue. Gabby shook her head.

"Nah, not really. We call him that. We all grew up together, Zoey, Ang, Mike and me. He's older by a year and really protective, so he makes a good pseudo-brother."

"Ah." Silence. Sip. Sip. ...

"You got any brothers?"

"Mm?" Toad thought for a moment. The Brotherhood had been the closest thing to a family he'd ever had. Now it was gone. And he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. "Nah, none."

"How long ya been in the States?"

Now that one required a bit more thought. How long had it been since Magneto had found him...he'd been, what...fourteen, fifteen? So... "'Bout nine years now."

"Mm." Slurp. Slurp. "Seen any good movies lately?" Toad wasn't expecting that and looked up to see Gabby grinning sheepishly. She shrugged. "Sorry, default conversation resuscitator."

"Heh." Toad grinned a bit. "'M afraid I'm not much of a talker."

"Me neither," said Gabby. He raised his eyebrow and she blushed. "Except for when I am, I guess. This is different. I don't talk to people outside of the gang much."

"Sure...Gabby."

"It's short for Gabriel, okay! It's not supposed to be a statement as to my personality!" Toad just chuckled. It felt good to be getting a rise out of someone again. She changed the subject. "So...how are you feeling?"

Toad considered. "Like crap. But better." He paused. "This is so bloody humiliating." She raised an eyebrow, but he wasn't sure he felt like elaborating. However, since the conversation had more or less dropped like a shot bird and was currently flapping around pathetically on the ground, he took a deep breath and continued.

"I don't get beat. Ever."

"First time for everything." Gabby grinned infuriatingly. "So you're a tough-guy type? Macho?"

"Nah, just truthful." His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly and he was suddenly and acutely reminded that he hadn't eaten anything for...two days, was it. Gabby heard it too and paled suddenly.

"Oh my God, you must be starving!"

"Yeah."

"Um..." She raced to the kitchen, only to return, sheepishly holding two boxes. "We got Lucky Charms and Captain Crunch. And milk."  
  


A few minutes later, Toad sat on the couch, wolfing down some magically delicious marshmallows. On the television, Brian and Stewie were arguing over who's fault it was that they had been glued together. He could hear the water running in the next room--Gabby was taking a shower. He tried not to think about it, and poured himself a fourth bowl of cereal. Hmm, if this kept up, he'd be snacking with the captain, soon. He glared at the cartoon leprechaun that beamed at him from the red box in his hand.

"Yeah, no wonder Americans don't take anything from Britain seriously." 

A part of him somewhat surprised with the way he was handling everything that had happened in the past two days, but even that surprise was a distant feeling. It was like you could only take so much weird sh*t happening to you before everything just kind of shut down and you accepted it. It was just rolling off him, like acid--no, wait, water--like water off a duck's back. Two nights ago, he'd been on a mission with three other mutant terrorist to mutate the world's leaders. Not that's he'd really cared about the point, he didn't share Magneto's optimism that once the people in power were mutants, everything would be better. Of course, it would mean he'd be higher up on the social food chain than humans. He smirked at the thought. But no, all he'd really bothered with, as far as executing the mission went, was knowing who he was supposed to kill and how.

He grimaced, thinking of the X-men. Thought they were so bloody righteous, did they? But no, it took three of them to beat him. Losers. If it had been any one, or even two of them alone... He'd had them all on the ropes all by his lonesome as it was. His fingers clenched around the spoon. "I don't get beat. Ever." He hadn't been bragging (much). He was one of the best. He'd studied traditional martial arts since he'd been ten, and adapted the style to his unique abilities. Sabertooth fought because he was an animal and could do nothing else, really. Mystique fought...Toad drew a breath, remembering just how Mystique fought. It was like a gymnastics routine, but more...hot. Fighting turned her on. He remembered that all too well. But he, Mortimer Toynbee, the Toad, fought with style. It was his heart and soul; he enjoyed it and fought like it was fun because it was. None of those X-men felt any joy in the fight.

He grimaced and shook his head. He'd been getting cocky. Well, no. He smirked slightly. He was cocky and he had every right to it. But careless, that's what he'd been. What would Brother Sensei have said if he'd seen how stupid he'd been, drunk on how easy it had been to pick of the "elite team?" Toad shook his head ruefully. One more chance, he knew, and he could fix them all good. Especially that little weather witch.

His thoughts were broken off as he heard a key click in the door. Instinctively he crouched between the table and the sofa, looking around him for a better place to hide. The door opened and Angie walked in, carrying bags of groceries. Toad blinked a few times and forced his breathing to slow, reminding himself that he had been invited here and was not being caught in the middle of a robbery or a mission. Even if the expression on Angie's face suggested otherwise. There was a tense silence between them.

"Hel-LO, lovely, lovely Angie!" bubbled Gabby as she entered, rubbing her head with a towel. She bounded up to the other girl, snatched the bags out of her hands, and began rifling through it. "Ah, excellent! Food! Food is good! Did you remember to get eggs? Yes! Omlettes tommorrow!" She scampered off to the kitchen with the bags, happily calling out the food items as she found them. "Ice cream Ice cream! Yay!" Toad cocked his head toward the kitchen and squinted. She was like a bloody kid. "Mmm...Beer..." Well, maybe not. 

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, he gingerly raised himself back up to the couch, fighting a sudden wave of nausea that swept over him. Angie still stared at him as if expecting him to try something. Not one to disappoint, Toad shot his tongue out and grabbed the cereal box. It had been a little painful, but the reaction when he grinned mischievously at the girl was worth it. Angie gasped, a small, frightened sound and raised her hands to her mouth, then ran to the kitchen. Toad shrugged, and hunched over his cereal again.

"Gabby, I want to talk to you," he heard Angie hiss urgently.

"Hm?" He could just see the clueless expression on the blonde's face to accompany the sound. "Yeah?"

"Outside."

"Oh." The playfulness left Gabby's voice, replaced by a wary note. "Right, okay." Toad focused on hunting down the remaining marshmallows amid the plain cereal and the two girls left the room. Hmm..tricky little buggers. He chased a soggy half-a-heart through the milk and licked it from his spoon.

"...Just too creepy..." He heard Angie say. Sigh. Here it comes. Ah well, nice while it lasted. At least he'd gotten a meal and a rest out of it all.

"...'s got nice eyes," Gabby pointed out in a falsely hopeful tone.

"They're creepy!" Angie's voice raised slightly as her exasperation with her friend increased. "Look, Gab, I'm sorry. I'm not saying turn him out tonight or anything. Let him sleep; it's fine with me. But Zoey's roommate's out of town, so I'm gonna stay there for tonight, okay?"

"So you're saying he's a dangerous mutant and you'd rather if I were all alone with him?" Gabby's voice was still playful, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He heard Angie exhale loudly.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying I don't feel comfortable around him, okay. He's a mutant, for crissakes!"

"So was Stacy." Now the edge was stronger, her voice quiet and angry.

"D*mmit, Gabby, I know! She was my friend too! But..."

"No, you're right." Resigned now. Toad gulped his cereal. Right about what? Him? Well, she was. He was creepy...and dangerous. He tried to smirk at that, but somehow it seemed more difficult. "It's not the same. I know. And it's not like you should have to stay if you're not comfortable." Toad considered leaving. Now would be as good a time as any to slip away unnoticed. It would even be kind of funny, these two humans out there, arguing about what to do with him when he wouldn't even be in the apartment anymore. He stood up experimentally, and immediately sank back into the couch with a soft groan. It was like having a hangover. Not tonight then.

The door opened and Gabby walked back in, looking slightly disturbed. He could hear Angie walking to the elevators. The girl flopped down in her chair with a sigh. Toad looked away.

" 'M sorry," he muttered. Gabby shook her head.

"Nah, don't be." There was a silence again, but it was more tired than awkward. At last, Toad asked,

"Who's Stacy?"

"Hm?" Gabby raised her head and blinked a few times. Obviously she had been dozing off.

"Stacy," he repeated. "Who is she?"

"Oh." Gabby ran her hand through her hair and rubbed the back of her head, looking at the floor for a long while. She took a deep breath and let it out.

"She was...Michael's girlfriend. About four years ago. They started at the same college together. She was a mutant. I'm not sure exactly how. Something about electricity. Her eyes would glow all funny sometimes, but other than that, you wouldn't have known it to look at her. She was real great, a lot of fun. Michael brought her home for the Christmas holidays his first year, introduced us all. She wasn't secretive about what she was--Michael knew she could trust us, we're all close as family. Th' next year, when Ang and I started college, we were all together at the same place and we got to know each other real well." Gabriel paused and took another slow breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "We all went to a Mutant's Rights rally, spring of '01...and things...kinda turned ugly." Toad nodded. He remembered hearing about that rally. A bunch of the Friends of Humanity had crashed the peace party. Over a hundred humans and mutants had been injured. Magneto had gone on about it for days, an example for why brute force was necessary when dealing with the lesser beings. Gabby rubbed her forehead, not quite wanting to go on. "Stacy...well...she ended up in a coma. The hospital..." She choked for a second, and then went on. "When they found out that she was a mutant, they told her parents that it would be dangerous for all the other patients to keep her on life support...might short out the system or something," she mimicked bitterly. "So, they...they took her off."

"Oh." Toad didn't know what to say. Gabby raised her eyes. They were over-bright and her mouth was set in a hard line. Toad recognized the signs of someone trying not to cry and politely looked away. "I'm sorry." 

Gabby rubbed her eyes hard, shaking her head, and stood up.

"No. No, it's okay. We just...we haven't talked about it much, since it happened. Tough stuff." She stretched, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Yeah, I know." Gabby paused in midstretch to look at him. He looked up and met her eyes. Their gazes locked for a long time. At last, Gabby lowered her arm, exhaling.

"Yeah, I suppose you would." She disappeared into bedroom and emerged with a pillow and blanket. With a playful grin, she tossed the pillow at him. His hand shot up automatically and caught it before it hit his face.

"Nice reflexes."

"Y'should see when I'm awake," he drawled, suddenly yawning. Gabby unceremoniously dropped the blanket on his head, grinning tiredly. 

"Bathroom's the door on the left, if ya need it."

"Thanks." He yawned again and stretched out on the couch, pulling the blanket around him. She clicked the light off as she left.

"G'night, Todd. Sweet dreams."

"G'night...Gabby," he murmured, musing over what had been said before sleep claimed him.

  
  


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Well. Yeah, that's about it, I think: Well. Um...About the whole contiplation of his fighting style. I rented the movie last night and watched all of his scenes. After being in martial arts for six years, you learn to pick out the different kinds of fighters, and Ray Parker as Toad just made me drool because he's one of the "for the joy of it" fighters. He does fancy stuff, but not like Mystique. He's got this attitude every time he's one screen kicking butt that's just...sexy is one word, but impressive comes to mind. I love the way he fights. Not the moves and all that, though that all rocks as well. Just...the way he fights...I can't get over it (--look what karate's done to me!)

Oh, yes, speaking of which, I want to go into just how he knows how to kick so much @55, so that'll be coming up soon.


	4. Nightmares

Black. The water was back again, but all he could see was blackness. Like being trapped in night, without the stars, not mere dark, but a night that was thick and tangible. He flailed, trying to push his way to the top. Rough hands held him down, choking the life from him. He spluttered up to the surface briefly, coughing, choking, before being shoved back under.

"For God's sake, Jonothan, kill it!" screeched a panic-filled voice. Mother? He heard a hysterical sobbing sound, followed by a sharp slap. The pressure holding him under eased, and he gulped at the air like a fish.

"Get a 'old of yerself, woman!" hissed an angry voice, but the sobs continued. His breath regained, he joined the crying with a croaking wail of his own, and the hands returned, pushing him back under, but they we shaking now. "Mary!"

"Let me kill it!" He couldn't breathe; the black water filled his lungs, filled all of him. 

"Mary for the love of God! That's your son!" Something pulling at the hands, but they were adamant. A laugh more like a sob, and more pressure.

"...Not mine! It's not mine it's not mine it's not mine..." The hands took on the rhythm of the crazed chant, shaking, jolting him under the water as it continued, like a mad song. "Not mine! Not mine! Not mine!" He moved his arms desperately, searching for a way back up to the air.

Let me up! I can't breathe! I can't breathe! No! NO!!  
  


THUMP!

Toad landed on the ground next to the couch, breathing hard. The impenatrable blackness of the water faded and he could make out vauge shapes of the apartment around him. Outside the window, the soft whirr of traffic could be heard. Toad closed his eyes and hugged himself tightly, shaking. He clenched his teeth, trying not to cry. The nightmares had come back. It had been years since he'd had them, years since the memories had forced their way into his mind. He drew rapid, trembling breaths through his teeth and rocked back and forth, hunched into himself, willing it all to go away. But it wouldn't. He could still hear the woman's --My mother! he thought, anguished-- insane voice chanting it's maniacal song: "Not mine not mine not mine..." He felt himself sobbing dryly, no tears, just sharp, convulsing breaths. That was what he was... His own mother had tried to drown him.... What kind of a child deserves that? He knew. He did--a horrible, disgusting freak like him. Oh God...

"Todd?" yawned a sleepy voice. Gabby was standing in the doorway, the hall light on behind her, rubbing her head and blinking owlishly. "Y'kay?" He forced himself to relax and closed his eyes before he had enough confidance in his voice to respond."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Jus' a nightmare." Gabby nodded and grunted something, and left. Toad lay still for a long while, then rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and up his forehead, pressing hard as if to squash the images back to the dark corner of his mind they had come from. With a soft groan, he raised himself to a sitting position, head between his knees, hands resting on his feet and forced himself to take deep, slow breaths, clenching and unclenching his fist.

"Here." Todd looked up to see Gabby holding a mug out to him. Her expression suggested sleepy concern.

"Wossat?"

"Tea." He took it, his hand curling around the mug, taking comfort in its warmth. Gabby helped him back onto the couch and sat down beside him. The scent of peppermint and cammomile wafted up from the steaming brew. He sat, hunched over his cup and stared at the brown liquid as if it held a secret, then took a sip, almost desperately, and sighed. It was good. He concentrated on the tension leaving his body, on letting the nightmares flow out of him. There would be no more sleep for him tonight, he knew that.

Suddenly he stiffened, feeling a hand on his head. Gabby gently ran her fingers through his spiky hair. He didn't look at her, but slowly relaxed as she lightly massaged his head. Neither spoke. He finished up the tea and put the cup down on the low table in front of him. Gabby stood up silently, and with one last brush of his hair, murmured goodnight and went back to her room. Toad sat, staring at nothing in particular long into the night.  
  
  
  
  
  


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Author's Notes

Mmmmm...angst. And short. In case you can't tell, I absolutely love angst, and angst boys. What's the saying? "Girls like angst bishies because they need to be cuddled to feel better." Sumthin' like that. (However, note to all vou naive highschoolers out there: Do /not/ go for angst guys in real life. I promise you, it gets old fast. But this is the wonderful world of fiction). ...I need a cup of tea now (speaking of which Camomile and Peppermint are ingredients in SleepyTime(tm) Tea, which is just the thing for soothing a little toad's nightmares. I like this chapter just because, for once, Gabby doesn't talk much. Yay Nuisance.

Toad and X-men are (c) Marvel.


	5. Good Morning!

(***Author's Notes: This is kind of another of those "Point B" parts, but I think I did better than the last one. I just wish Gabby would shut up sometimes. That ever happen to ya? You get a character on paper and suddenly they start developing a life of their own? Like I had no idea Angie would be such a b***h. And this one character that I've only mentioned thus far...He just walked right up to me and started telling me all these stories about Mort's childhood (really sweet/sad/awful/sha-cute stuff, too). Speakin' of the name Mort [which I've come to love, btw], has anyone else thought of playing around with the Latin implications of it? Seems odd, intriguing, and sexy...

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Y'all're so sweet! Someone called it "well-thought out" and "well-written." *blush* I can't think of higher praise than that, when writing is concerned [unless maybe it was Neil Gaiman saying it g] I'm glad y'all liked the angst. I'll try not to overdo it. And in defense of herbal tea: peppermint and camomile tea combined with a scalp massage will send anyone off to dream-land. Or at least relax them a lot. ^_^ 

As always, Toad and X-men (c) Marvel. Don't sue me, you won't get a thing worth value. Except my Lothlorien brooch, and I'll fight tooth and nail for it!

Oh, one last comment. I actually did Toad's little stretching routine while writing it to make sure it made sense. If you can, I suggest doing it. It feels gooooooood...... /endinsanelylongAuthor'sNotes)  
  


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"Good morning!"

Gabby walked in that morning to find Toad on the floor, stretching. He looked like a gymnast warming up for a routine. Gabby's eyebrows rose as she watching him tuck a foot behind his ear with a soft groan. "Man..." she whistled, impressed. "You are flexible!"

Toad extended a hand under his leg and tensed the muscles in his back and shoulder. He reared back and stretched his other hand as far behind him as it would go, reaching, then curled his fingers in a fist, brought his arm around his head and curled into a tight ball. He tensed again, holding the position for a few seconds, then relaxed and sprawled back with a satisfied noise.

"Mm-hmm," he purred as he began rolling his neck and shoulders, working the kinks out.

"Hope you're not sore from sleeping on the couch."

"Nah." He grunting, stretching his arms up and behind his back before letting them swing loose. "Jus' stiff. Haven't moved much in the past few days. Not normal." He cut himself off. What was normal about him? Gabby didn't notice.

"So, y'feelin' better?"

"Sure, luv. Could have a run around the block right now." He twisted his back around, going through his morning ritual. Gabby raised an eyebrow, and he smirked apologetically. "Or at least a vigorous walk across the room." She grinned at him.

"You heal quick." He shook his head.

"Nah, just burns and things like that." He didn't feel like talking about it. Back arches now. Gabby looked on with interest. Hmm...very flexible....cute--gah! She blinked and shook her head. Toad extended a leg and slowly stretched it out behind him, his long fingers curving around his ankle, then finished up by sliding quickly into a full split. Gabby caught her breath in sympathy.

"Boy, keep that up and you are /never/ having children." He cocked his head and looked at her curiously for a moment, then flicked out his tongue and grabbed the mug from the table when he had left it last night. She made a startled sound. He caught the cup expertly and turned back to her with a sardonic expression.

"I'd think that would be something of a moot point, luv," he said with somewhat bitter humor. Gabby blinked and her brow furrowed as she tilted her head to study him, looking a bit nervous. Toad crouched and started stretching his arms again, slightly uncomfortable with her gaze on him. When he turned back, he found her only a few inches away. Startled, he fell over on his backside. Oh, bloody hell. I'm still off...he thought. Normally being surprised like that would have had him on the ceiling, ready for a fight.

"I still wanna have a look at those burns, hun," Gabby said. Toad stared at her, confused. She raised an eyebrow and gestured. "The shirt. Off." Toad blinked, feeling that his eyes couldn't get much wider. "Take your shirt off," she repeated slowly, as if to a child. "The worse of the burns were on your back." Still eyeing her, he slowly raised the borrowed t-shirt. Exasperated, Gabby snatched it off and threw it on the couch, then turned him around to get a good look at his back.

"Well," she said, surprised. Toad's burn marks, while still visible, weren't dry and stiff, but soft and pliant. Underneath the burns what looked like faded scars could be seen. She gently touched his back and heard him hiss. "I'm sorry. Does that hurt?"

"N'much. Stings a bit." She nodded and moved around to his chest, pushing him upright so she could see better. Toad's eyes darted toward a wall; having a girl right in front of him while he was shirtless was unnerving. Her hand was warm against the cool skin of his bare shoulder.

Gabby studied his body, noting both the blotchy green tinge to his otherwise smooth skin and his slim, athletic build. It was easy to see he took care of himself. What's that Zoey would say? she thought, grinning. 'You could iron a shirt on those abs' or something like that...

Toad, catching the grin, felt heat flow up his cheeks. What th' hell's she smiling at? Cor...this is bloody embarrassing...hey! Gabby had begun rubbing aloe onto his stomach. He doubled over protectively, catching her hand. Gabby eeped in surprise.

"Whoa! Chill! Sorry." Toad released her and slowly uncurled, eyeing her mistrustfully.

"I don' need any o' that stuff," he said flatly. Gabby raised an eyebrow and her grin turned mischievous as it dawned on her.

"Are you ticklish, Todd?" 

"No!" A dark green flooded his cheeks and she chuckled. 

"You're blushing!"

He glared at her, his eyes glinting gold, a dangerous smirk on his face and her smile vanished. That was better.

"I am not blushing and I am not ticklish," he said in a soft, menacing voice. Gabby raised her hands placatingly, her eyes wide. "I just don't need any aloe, so leave off, 'kay?"

"All right, all right." Gabby stood up and threw his shirt at him. Turning, she frowned at him. "How'd you heal so fast?" He gave her a withering look.

"Mutant," he said as if it were obvious, spreading his hands and gesturing at himself. Gabby glared.

"So, green skin, long tongue...what's that got to do with healing? Or do you all heal quick?" He shrugged his shirt on, not responding. She stood there, arms crossed, still expecting an answer. He sighed and reached out his hand without looking directly at her.

"Lemme see y'hand," he said, not really wanting to. Dubiously she held out her left one. He brushed the back of it with his fingertips, excreting a very small amount of slime as he did so. Gabby gasped softly as her hand tingled and went numb. As she rubbed it nervously he turned his back to her, pretending to adjust his shirt. "Numbs stuff up," he said needlessly. "Moisturizes, too, I guess," he added in a more cheerful tone.

"I can see that..." said Gabby faintly, still trying to massage life back into her paralyzed hand. "This is temporary, right?"

"Nah, 'fraid it'll be like that f'th' rest of y'life. Doesn't wear off." He grinned at her maliciously. She paled visibly and he had to chuckle. "Jus' takin' a piss atcha, luv." She grinned ruefully at him and shook her head.

"Stupid limey."

"Bloody yank."

Their eyes met and they both laughed. Gabby sat down next to him, pushing her wayward hair out of her face as they chortled. Toad rubbed his eyes, feeling his face split by a huge grin. When was the last time he had laughed like this? Not at someone's expense or at the stupidity of the world, just because something was simply funny. He couldn't remember; probably back with Brother Sensei. It felt good.

"Ah..." Gabby suddenly stood up, still grinning. "Breakfast."

"Sounds good!" Toad sprang up and the room around him spun nauseatingly. He staggered and Gabby put out a hand to catch him. He stood still while things slowly stabilized. When he could finally open his eyes again, he saw her gazing up at him, concern in her brown eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut; he wasn't used to seeing that, to seeing anyone caring, and it unnerved him as much as her touch earlier. " 'M fine," he muttered, trying to shake her hands off.

Yeah, you are, thought Gabby wryly, but instead she just helped him back on the couch.

"What happened to you?" she asked, quietly. He shook his head and heard her sigh. None o' her bloody business, he thought angrily, but he couldn't put any venom in it. The water-off-a-duck's-back feeling from the night before was starting to fade, and the oddness of the whole situation came back to him.

"Huh?"

"I said how do you like your eggs?"

"Oh." Toad shrugged. "However. Scrambled, I guess." She was making him breakfast. No one had made him breakfast since he'd left the orphanage. Hell, she had been touching him. Touching...he'd never been touched by a girl, except for when he and Mystique had sparred or when he'd been slapped by random women, and somehow, he didn't think those counted. He lowered his head and passed his hands through his hair. Hmm...he put a hand in front of his eyes and studied it. Nope, still green. Experimentally, he stuck his tongue out and touched the tip of his nose. Then his ear. Same as ever. He rubbed his arm absently. This didn't make sense. She was a normal, a flatline...just another human, right? He knew what humans were like. Every day for fifteen years, insults ringing in his ears: "Hey Froggie!" "Go back to France, Froggie!" "Ribbit ribbit!" "Eeew..." "Hey Kermit!" "What happened to you? Your mother screw a toad?" "Aww, I bet you were such a cute little tadpole." Toad. That was his name. The woman who'd tried to drown him (Mother! His throat still caught when he thought it) had left him with the name Toynbee. Mortimer...he somehow thought it must have been his father who named him. He just couldn't see the hysterical woman who haunted his nightmares taking time to name the hideous thing her womb had produced. And now...Todd. But no name changed the fact that he was a toad, that he was Toad. Which made what was happening now even more implausible.

A plate clinked on the table in front of him and he raised his head to see Gabby's smiling face. She sat down beside him and handed him a glass of orange juice. For now, Toad decided, it didn't matter. It was nice to see someone care again.

"By the way, hon," Gabby said suddenly, her fork halfway to her mouth. "If you call me a yank again, I will be forced, in the name of the South, to liberally coat that tongue of yours in tabasco sauce."

"Eh?"

" 'M Cajun," she explained around a mouthful of egg. "We Southerners don't take well to being called Yanks." She grinned, and he chuckled.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I feel like pissin' ya off..." Toad stopped, realizing that saying so implied a next time, and next times weren't things he was used to when dealing with most people. Gabby just stuck her tongue out at him with an unamused expression. Toad grinned wider, and used his to grab the toast off of his plate.

"That's ...really...interesting," said Gabby faintly, her eyes wide. Her voice suggested that several other words could be substituted for "interesting." He shrugged and went back to his food.

They ate in silence, and while neither of them mentioned it, Toad's thoughts drifted back to last night. Her coming in and soothing his nightmares away. Her fingers playing with his hair (it tickled!). He stole a glance at her. She was okay, kinda pretty, in a cute way, not really sexy or anything. He shook his head and tortured the eggs on his plate. What the bloody hell was he thinking?! The eggs didn't answer. So she was nice to him because she'd had a mutant friend and felt a calling to heal to world or some shyte. That didn't mean she would ever actually like him. No one liked him, not even his fellow mutants in the Brotherhood. Who could like a slimy, disgusting, irritating-- He broke off seeing her looking at him musingly.

"What?" Maybe he had egg on his face. He rubbed the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"You look like you're thinking hard." He didn't respond. "Well, breakfast is no place for deep thoughts," she announced, picking up her plate and carrying it to the sink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for class. Feel free to wander around, so long as your wandering doesn't bring you into the bathroom." She grinned wryly.  
  


When she had gone, Toad stood up --slowly-- and brought his plate to the kitchen. Used to being the one on clean-up duty back with the Brotherhood, he washed it and the remaining dishes in the sink. Then he went back into the main area and looked around. His eyes fell on the stack of paintings and art supplies. A sketchbook lay open on the ground. He picked it up and leafed through it. A landscape from central park, quick sketches of people, a study of who he recognized as Michael. Flip. Flip. Flip. Concept sketches, character designs, illustrations, a picture of someone sleeping in a lecture hall. Toad smirked and put down the sketchbook. The canvases called him next. He gently moved aside the half-finished one. A self-portrait, a smaller picture of Angie and Zoey, the Statue of Liberty done at an interesting angle --he moved that one aside quickly. More than enough of that!-- and in the way back, a green-skinned man smirking and holding an upset looking pink frog, both wearing crowns.

"We had do a different twist on a fairy tale," came Gabby's voice from behind him. She leaned over, squinting appraisingly at the piece. "I did the Frog Prince. I never liked the way the old tale came out."

"I always liked it," mumbled Toad, putting the paintings back. Gabby snorted.

"Yeah, frog helps princess, princess snubs frog then throws him against a wall and he turns into a prince and they get married, despite what an absolute brat the princess was, and we're expected to believe they lived happily ever after."

"Frogs can be desperate," Toad suggested wryly. Hadn't it been a kiss? He liked the kiss story much better.

"Not that desperate, I'd hope."

"You did these?" Toad asked, changing the subject. Gabby grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"Yeah. 'M a junior this year. Was supposed to be a veterinarian, like m'dad, but I dropped outta that after a semester and switched to an Art major. Kinda a blow to dad."

"I like art," Toad muttered. Something propped up against the wall caught his eye: a long, thick stick. He touched it, wondering if it was what he thought it was. "What's this?"

"Oh." Gabby chuckled embarrassedly and ducked her head, even more nervous now. "That's my bo. I took karate back home. Don't have the time to keep up with it, but I kept all my old weapons and I train when I get the chance. I'm not very good," she confided. Toad smirked and picked up the bo, testing its weight.

"How not good? What rank did you make it too?"

"Mmph...rank doesn't matter." She opened a drawer and Toad could see a set of kama and a dark belt amid the junk. "Bo's one of my favorite weapons--it's practical, easy to find, and you can hit people from a distance, but these..." After rummaging around, she pulled out a pair of glittering sai. "These are my babies," she said with a fond smirk. She handed one to Toad and he held it with the blade flat against his arm."

"Yeah, these are allus fun," he grinned, jabbing at the air with the pommel, then twirling the weapon around and preforming an inverted strike with the blades. He spun it back to the resting position. "Y'got small arms," he commented, noticing that the blade was a few inches short of the crock of his elbow. Gabby bristled playfully and took it back.

"Maybe yours are just really long," she retorted, returning the weapons to their drawer. "Where'd you learn to play with sai?" Toad shrugged.

"M'Sensei back at the St. Augustine's," he said uncomfortably. He didn't like talking about it. Magneto had never cared about where his followers had picked up their fighting styles, only that they could fight. And kill. Toad sighed and tried to push Brother Sensei's face from his mind, disappointed but compassionate...Leave m'lone, he thought angrily. The monk just smiled sadly at him. Gabby didn't press him.

"I wrote my cell-phone number on the fridge and Mike's next to that in case you need anything." Gabby hefted a large portfolio and opened the door. Toad shook himself from his thoughts. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back about three. Bye!" She blew him a playful kiss.

"Bye..."  
  
  
  


After she left, Toad went to the kitchen and got himself a beer. Now that she was gone, he realized, he'd be all alone with his thoughts for the first time in almost three days. The idea didn't appeal to him much. A part of him was afraid that as soon as he really thought about what was happening, instead of just taking things as they came, everything good would fall apart. He cocked his head. Of course, that meant that there was something good to be afraid of losing. He realized with a pang that there was. He was actually enjoying himself here, albeit he still couldn't move much and Gabby still lived up to her nickname. That made him feel like a traitor to the Brotherhood. Then he remembered: there was no Brotherhood anymore. He flicked the beer cap off with his tongue and took a long drink. No more Brotherhood. No more baiting Sabertooth. No more Magneto there to inspire love and awe. No more hope of a better tomorrow for mutant kind. No more Mystique doing...whatever the hell it was she did. Hm...looking real nice and adding that feminine touch to the lair, he guessed. She hadn't stayed around the place as much as he and Sabertooth had--her mutation allowed her to go out on more missions that involved human contact. He'd always just been the driver, at most. That was another thing. No more missions. Toad groaned and stretched out on the couch, taking another swig of beer. It tasted like piss. No missions? Might as well add "no purpose in life" to the list as well, he thought bitterly. Without Magneto there to tell him what to do, what good was he? With Magneto, he'd been useful: a mechanic, an assassin, a chauffeur, and a general handyman for all the things Sabertooth was too stupid to do and Mystique and the boss had been too busy to do. With a small flicker of pride, he reflected that the Brotherhood could not have worked without him. He grinned and chucked back the rest of the beer, using his tongue to drop it in the trash can. Yeah, he'd been useful.

Of course, what now? He frowned and thought about getting another beer. Now he was just a slimy freak with green skin and a wonder-tongue. Who else had use for a mutant like him? Well, Xavier did, to be sure, but who else that he could /stand/, maybe? No one, that's who. Not for the first time, he thought about the X-men bitterly. Sure, they all thought humans were great and worth saving. Any one of them could easily go down to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes or a magazine. They could walk around, even Cyclops, and not have people stare and point, or shout, or throw heavy objects at them. Or rotten fruit...Toad shied away from that particular memory. The point was, any one of them could pass for human. They really knew nothing of being on the receiving end of the seething hatred humanity had for people who were just so different. He felt his hands clench. Humans! They were all just rotten apes and deserved what they got when Magneto escaped! If he escaped...Toad sighed and slumped. No, this line of thought wasn't taking him anywhere. What would he do as soon as he could move around again? Probably just find his way back to the lair and wait for the rest of them to show up. He couldn't really believed they'd all been defeated. He hadn't heard anything about the police capturing Mystique or Sabertooth. But then, if they'd been able to get to Magneto, it stood to reason that Mystique was dead, and without Magneto, Sabertooth would just go back to living in the wilds. But...,Toad looked at the ceiling, lost. Magneto /had/ to escape. He was Magneto...he was his leader. He was a genius. Of course he would get away. It's not like the humans are smart enough to hold him forever. Toad smirked. Hell, even now as he sat in this apartment, Magneto was probably returning to his island, chuckling at the ease with which he had escaped from humans.

Toad shook off the heavy thoughts and got himself another beer, making the mental note that it would be his last one for the morning. After almost ten years in the Brotherhood, he wasn't used to having to worry about what would happen next and he didn't feel like starting now. He sifted through the playstation games and CDs. Beatles, Kingdom Hearts, BareNaked Ladies, Final Fantasy X2, AC/DC...something called D.C. Talk caught his eye with the title "Welcome to the Freak Show." He grinned sardonically. Yeah, welcome to the bloody freak show...wonder if this is any good. He turned it over and read the tracks. Christian music. Screw that. Ah, much better. He slipped Grand Theft Auto into the playstation and lost himself in a world of mindless, unpunished violence. And car stealing. Not as much fun as the real thing, but without the heart attack, he mused, remembering the time he'd hot-wired a vehicle, hands trembling, jumping at every movement. He gunned down an NPC and grinned. This was almost like being back at the lair; if he just focused on the game and didn't glance around, he could almost pretend that Mystique would walk in any minute, unplug the television, and tell him to get his green hindquarters into the briefing room. Yeah, just like old times.  
  
  
  
  
  


****************************************************************

Okay, I know he says "piss you off" and I'm pretty sure that someone told me that wasn't British slang at all, but aside from "taking the mickey" (which only sounds cool when spoken outloud by an actual Brit and should never be used in writen form more than once a story), I couldn't think of anything. I'm fond of the "Stupid limey"/"Bloody yank." exchange, but if anyone found it offensive, I'm sorry. Also...grrrr...I want to post with some thing in italics, dangit!... I'm also beginning to think that I'm incapable of writing a non-complex sentence. ....4000 frigg in words...loquacitious to a fault. Sai, in case you haven't seen any, are the small, three-pronged weapon, like a mini-pitchfork, weilded by Raph of the Ninja Turtles. And finally, D.C. Talk is an awesome band, and not just cuz I like Christian music. They've got some sweet riffs and great vocals.

Next..."Dinner and a Movie!"


	6. Modeling Session

(Okay, so /NEXT/ time, "Dinner and a Movie." My bad.)

Toad and X-men (c) Marvel  
  
  
  


Modeling Session  
  


*************************************************  
  


"Hey, Todd. How was your day?" Gabby called, trudging in and dropping her portfolio with a relieved sigh. Toad forced himself relax --the door opening had startled him -- and paused the game.

"Ah, y'know...ran down a few pedestrians, bounced off the walls some. Took a kip." He shrugged. He was annoyed with himself for needing the nap; it was unlike him to be so tired.

"Oh gah, I'm sorry," groaned Gabby. "It must be dead boring for you."

"Nah, actually. It's a lot like being back..." He stopped himself before he said 'at the lair' and finished lamely with: "...home." Gabby looked at him curiously and started pulling out her drawing board.

"Hey, y'don't mind if Zoey comes by t'night, do ya?" She asked suddenly. Toad blinked.

"Who?"

"Red-head from the boat, th' one Ang is stayin' with. Real bubbly?"

"Worse'n you?" he asked. Gabby chuckled.

"Suppose I should take that as a compliment," she said, settling herself in her chair. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she said,"Well, if you like me enough to insult me like that, it's kinda a mark of friendship, wouldn't you say?" Toad frowned and turned back to the game, not wanting to talk about it. Friendship? Nah. He was grateful to her, sure, and more than a bit surprised that she had helped him this much, but friendship...He shook his head. 

"N'. I dun'think so."

What kind of a friendship involved insults? Briefly, he thought back to Sabertooth. They hadn't been friends, they hadn't even liked or respected one another, but they had been comrades. And he'd always been taking the mickey out of the ferocious mutant. But that had been more out of relief to find someone about as low on the food chain as he was. He did vaguely remember kids from the orphanage insulting one another and being best buddies, but mostly he'd been too busy trying to be alone to figure it out. Anyway, he told himself, there's no friendship here. I'm just laying low until I can get back on my feet. I'll leave tomorrow, if I can. 

"Well, anyway," Gabby continued, skritching furiously at her paper. Did he imagine it, or was there a note of hurt in her voice. He mentally shook himself and focused on the game. Imagined, definitely. "Zoey said she'd bring Chinese. And some movies. And I'm not one to pass up free food, so if you don't mind another watching movies with a few /not-friends/, then I'll call her up and tell to come." Ah, maybe he hadn't imagined it. He frowned again. It shouldn't bother her, not being friends with him. Besides, she shouldn't be giving away friendship so freely. Maybe that was another benefit to being a normal: you could just open up to whoever and not get shot down. His mouth twisted into a bitter grin. Yeah, not used to having your friendship rejected, are you? Well, tough.

"Well?"

"Mm? Oh. Yeah, sure," Toad shrugged. Gabby grabbed the cordless next to her chair and dialed.

"Yo' Ang. Zoe there?...Yes, he is....No, I don't think so..." A sigh. "Look, Ang...right, I'm sorry too...No, it's okay, just...is Zoey there?...." A different tone. "Zoe! Hey girl!...Yeah, it's cool....Y'know me, fried rice." She covered the mouth piece. "Anything in particular you want?" Toad shrugged and shook his head. "Nah, he says 'no.' .... Yes, he eats. A lot." The last aimed at him good-naturedly. At least, he /hoped/ it was good-natured. "I dunno, something funny. ... Oh yes! Sexy British accents all around.... I know /he's/ Australian, I was talking about Paul Bettany. ...Well, I think he is, so shut up." Toad paused and squinted at her. 'Sexy British accents?' And who the bloody hell was Paul Bettany? With a sinking feeling, Toad realized it was going to be a chick-flick. That shook him: it was such a /normal/ worry, what kind of a movie your friends--no, not friends...um...people-- were going to make you watch. Gabby kept rabbiting on. "Mm...yeah, he's sexy too. ... No, he was /not/ good in Episode I! No one was good in Episode I! ... Okay, conceded, but only because the bo-lightsaber rocked and he didn't have any crappy lines.... So help me, Zoe, you make me sit through that again, I am never speaking to you..." Laughter.

Toad withdrew further into himself, listening to her talk. It threw into focus just how out of his element he was. These were the people, these normals, whose mundane little lives he'd been trying to overthrow. An odd thought occurred to him. If those stupid X-men hadn't shown up and Magneto had been able to finish mutating the world leaders...well, Gabby and her friends might have been around the harbor then, right? Maybe not right on it; he remembered what security had been like ("had" being the operative word, he thought with a smirk). But, wasn't it possible that... He shook himself angrily. There was no point in thinking about that. The plan hadn't worked anyway. To his right, Gabby said goodbye and hung up the phone.

"So..." He said awkwardly, flicking the game back on.

"So." Her voice was stiff, the good-natured tone gone. He shifted uncomfortably and sighed. The game was losing his interest, but he didn't feel like trying to start a conversation or doing anything different. But you could only hold up a bank so many times.

For a long while they sat at their respective diversions, neither speaking. The only sounds were the people pleading for mercy on the screen and the occasional rustle of paper as Gabby flipped over a fresh sheet. Toad saw her looking at him out of the corner of his eye and squirmed. She made an exasperated sound and turned another sheet over. Curiosity got the better of him and he paused the game.

"Whatcha drawin'?" Gabby looked up, startled, then began hurriedly flipping pages over.

"Eh? Oh, drawing teacher told us to do a series of life drawings for Wednesday."

"Like, what, fruit and stuff?" He got up --still carefully -- and craned his neck to see. Gabby moved the pad from his line of vision. "Come on. Lemme see. Whatcha been drawin'?" he insisted. With a sigh, she pushed the pad to him and turned to face the wall. Curiously, he opened it. The top page was a landscape...that wasn't it. He flipped through until...

"Hey..." He stopped, staring at a charcoal drawing of a young man in baggy clothes crouched over a video game controller. Gabby twitched, as if to take it out of his hands, but sighed and gave up. He turned the page. A close up of long-fingered hands holding the controller. Turn. A head shot close up of a profile that he recognized as...

"That's not me," he said flatly, closing the drawing pad and handing it back to her. She took it with a glare and flipped back to the page. Suddenly, her hand shot out and grabbed him by the chin, turning his head to match the angle of the drawn one.

"Well, it would be if you didn't move around so much," she explained, aggravated. He jerked his hands from her fingers and glared back at her.

"No, I mean..." He meant what? It just wasn't him. He knew what he looked like. The face on the page was too...normal-looking. Sure, it had his spiky hair and large eyes, but...it looked so...human. He frowned at her. "I don't look like that."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, just held the pad at arms length and studied her work. Her left hand went back to his chin before he could protest and she began rubbing and scribbling quickly. Releasing him, she eyed the picture appraisingly. "Nose was the wrong shape. Think I got it now," she muttered. Toad just looked at her like she had started speaking in a foreign language. She turned the page to him. "Any better?"

"That's not me," he repeated, wondering if maybe /he'd/ started speaking in a foreign language. Didn't she get it? Gabby rolled her eyes and turned to a clean sheet.

"Everyone's a bloody critic," she muttered. "Since you're not doing anything, how 'bout modeling for me?"

"Wha--?"

"I've done Angie dozens of times, I don't even have to look at her anymore. Zoey can't sit still long enough, and Mike's too..." She gestured with her hand. "...Buff."

"Y'suggestin' somethin'?" he said, mildly offended.

"Just that I like slender guys. To draw!" she added hurriedly, color flooding her cheeks. Toad scowled at her.

"I'm not modeling for you," he said testily. Draw the freak, right? Good practice for creating monsters later, huh?

"Please?" She cocked her head like a puppy. "Just for a bit. Until Zoey gets here." He glared and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. No meant no, dangit! Her expression turned sly. "It's not like I haven't seen you nude alrea--"

"What?" he yelped, a little bit louder than intended. Gabby just widened her eyes innocently.

"Okay, so you still had boxers on, but the point is..."

"No!"

Gabby sighed theatrically and looked at the blank page in mock-despair.

"And I was so hoping to finally get to draw a guy with a nice body too." Toad had had enough. He didn't need people making fun of him; he'd had plenty of it his whole life. Feeling the sudden need for a drink, he went into the kitchen for another beer. Gabby called after him, "You should see the people they make us draw in class! Some of 'em should never be seen in shorts, let alone in the buff." He made an aggravated sound and returned, beer in hand.

"You're not going to bloody shut up until I let you, will you?" he demanded irately. Gabby shook her head smiling happily. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine."

"Great! Just...sit over there, I guess." Toad complied. "Mmm..." she tapped her pencil to her lips. "Loose the shirt." He blinked, nervous now.

"Y'sure...?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "You've got a nice build and I'd like to try to get it down. Y'can keep your pants on, if y'want," she added with a sly grin. Toad flushed a slightly darker shade of green and he slipped his shirt off, wondering when everything had stopped making sense. "Hmm... maybe one of those stretches you were doing this morning? Or just like that's good, really. Only..." She got up and adjusted his position so that his chin rested lightly on one hand and the other hand was draped over his knee. Toad shivered as she ran her fingers across his skin, trying to get the placement right. He was beginning to get an overload on his "weird-sh*t-o-meter" again. Gabby fixed the angle of the lamp, and satisfied, went back to the chair and began to draw.

He sat there for about an hour, with no sound but the skritch of her charcoal and the faint hum of the paused video game. Every now and again Gabby would mutter to herself and rub something out. Once he'd gotten over the original chagrin, he watched her with fascination. He'd never watched someone really draw before and it was intriguing to see the expression of concentration slip over her face like a mask as she lost herself to everything but the work in front of her. It was more than a little unnerving to have her eyes studying him as though he were a piece of furniture, though. But the way the tip of her tongue stuck out from between her teeth as she mused over the drawing made up for...He closed his eyes tightly. No, it didn't, and no he wasn't looking at anything but her hands now. He'd always liked art, even if he'd never been much good at it. It had been a pretty good way to work out frustration, until he'd discovered martial arts and pretty much dismissed it as useless. So much easier to forget the world around you when you just focused on training your body.

"Whew..." whistled Gabby, glancing at her watch. "Sorry, usually we give models a break by now."

"'M okay," he said. She looked skeptical.

"Y'sure? If you need to stretch your legs out or something..." Her own leg bent in sympathy. He shook his head.

"Nah. This is actually more comfortable, really." She nodded and went back to drawing. "Can I see?"

"No, you'll jinx it," she said glibly. Fifteen more minutes. "How the hell can you stay still that long?" He shrugged his shoulders, eliciting a half-uttered protest from Gabby.

"Practice." 

Another fifteen minutes. Gabby sat back with a sigh, stretching her legs and shaking her hand out.

"Y'can move now." He leaned back, stretching his arms out. "I can't believe your legs aren't asleep by now," she said. He gave a half-hearted grin and didn't reply. "Thanks, man. You're a really great model. You never moved a bit." He shrugged again. Now that she was animate again, he was back to feeling uncomfortable. "Seriously," she said, getting up. "We could use you down at the school. Art department would pay you good money to come and model for us. You've got incredible endurance. Not to mention very well-toned muscles." The last sounded more like an appraisal than anything else.

"And green skin," he pointed out sardonically. Gabby frowned.

"Not an issue, unless you're working with paint." She got herself a beer. "Want one?"

"Already got one." He held up his bottle.

"Good. There's only two left." She took a sip and eyed him. "Up for another?" He blinked and nodded. Feeling a little odd, he added,

"It keeps that mouth of yours shut." There. Back to insults. That felt better. Gabby just grinned.

"Yeah, sure. How 'bout some music this time around?"

"'Kay..." They sifted through the CDs together and it wasn't until found himself brushing something from his face --a wayward frizz of hair-- that he realized how close they were. And remember how shirtless he was. He mumbled something and backed away.

"Lord of the Rings, Abbey Road, or highlights from Phantom of the Opera?" asked Gabby, holding up the three CDs. 

"Um...Phantom, I guess." He'd seen it once, snuck into a dark theater with a group of boys from the orphanage. And Magneto had been played it occasionally. He only vaguely remembered it. He couldn't recall if he'd liked it or not. "Hey, what happened to the Phantom at the end?"

"Hm? Oh, ah..." Gabby paused, searching his memory. "He finally realized that he was hurting Christine and let her and her dork of a lover go free, then vanished as the angry mob closed in. Left a rose on his chair where he'd been, I think. Real sad, but cool."

"Ah." No, he wasn't too sure he liked it at all. Of course, it stayed true to life, and he had to give it something for that. Gabby put in the CD and pressed pause, then turned back to him.

"So..." he asked nervously. "What do you want me to do this time?" Put my bloody shirt back on, probably, he thought. 

"Mm...You're a martial artist, right? How 'bout some stances? Something cool-looking."

"Cat stance?" he suggested. She considered for a moment, then shook her head.

"Nah, too awkward...back stance maybe?" He went into it and she shook her head again, then named another position. That too proved inadequate. She went through a few stances and he mimicked hers (better, he thought) so she could see.  
  


In the end, she drew one of him in a loose traditional sparring stance, and a quick series of sketches of him stretching ("I can't hold those forever," he told her). By the end of it, Toad actually found himself having fun picking out new poses ("Dang! Wish I could do that!" she muttered appreciatively as he slipped into a position worthy of a contortionist.) and seeing her reaction ("What did I tell you about not having children!" -- a pained sympathy yelp), though he wished she'd let him put his shirt back on (the last time he had tried, she had snatched it from him and put it under her cushion). He wasn't quite comfortable with so much skin exposed, but she ignored his protests ("Good for your burns anyway," she said. "Lets 'em get some air."). At last, she moved aside her pad and threw his shirt back to him.

"Akay, I'm done torturin' you fer now," she grinned. With an unsure, lopsided smirk, he slipped it back on and smoothed the wrinkles out. "Y'doin' okay?" He nodded. He felt slightly tired and woozy and had a small headache, but otherwise fine. It was great to move around again. "Here." She tossed him a bottle of Tylenol.

"Still druggin' me?" he asked with a grin.

"You're gonna be sore tomorrow."

"I don't get sore." That wasn't entirely true, but it was close enough.

"Huh." She gave him a look that clearly told him that she would be highly amused when he woke up the next morning incapable of movement. He ignored it and reached for the drawing pad.

"So can I see now?" She wrested it away, then changed her mind and handed it to him. Some of his light-hearted attitude disappeared as he flipped the pages. Was that really how she saw him? That couldn't be him, whatever she said. "Still doesn't look like me," he muttered, handing it back. Gabby's face turned serious.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's just...not me," he said awkwardly, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't look like that."

"Like what?"

"That!" He pointed to the drawing of the fighting stance. How dense was she? Gabby shook her head.

"I think that's exactly how you look, give or take a few artistic screw ups. I told you--" Here she poked him suddenly in the stomach, causing him to retreat. "You've got a really nice body. You take care of it and it shows. You focused on speed instead of brute force in you training and that shows too." Toad shrugged. He was proud of his training, and he'd admit that he had a well-conditioned body, but still... "Look, you want proof, we'll show this to Zoey when she gets here."

"Yeah, well..." He took a long drink, trying to think of something slightly insulting to say. "You're still annoying." 

She just laughed.  
  


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Ah, I feel like I should apologize for this. Originally it was supposed to just be a side thing, but when I started writing I realized that it really would work. Toad (or Ray Park ^_^) would be an excellent model. Martial artists usually are and he's not too buff (I do like my skinny guys...tho he's not that either). This chapter was kind of just for me, in a way, though if you like picturing a nervous, shirtless Toad, I guess it works for you too. Every artist dreams about getting a good model. 

Also, I wasn't planning on Toad's reaction to seeing himself drawn, but when it happened, it made perfect sense. Our self perception is really based on what other people tell us, and so if a child grows up just hearing things like "freak" and "ugly" he could be bloody Orlando Bloom and think he was Quasidmodo. Toad's had that kind of childhood, and I think being confronted with a simple drawing of himself would shake those self-images a bit because in a quick, amateur charcoal drawing, blotchy or green skin just won't show up, so the picture would look human. Actually, it'd look quite a bit like Ray Park. And that's enough to combat someone's self-image of being ugly, ne? Mmmm....ray park...


	7. Dinner and a Movie

Aaaaah! I just saw the new 1602, and they gave Toad a cameo. I wanna cry! I know he's not really supposed to ever be sexy (hell, even in the movie, if you ever see him in good light, it's like "Ahh! Oh...Ee..."), but...*whimper* icky....and a lisp...NEIL! (Khan!) Anyway.

Blearg...awkward chapter. I don't like Zoey. And I feel like I kinda lost sight of Toad's. A lot of sulking. I guess he's merited it, but if he doesn't get back IC...*waves wiffle-bat menacingly at Toad*

Um, lessee....

First of all: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed thus far. Y'all rock my socks, you really do. And extra thanks to Guin for the list of British slang. Very cool of you, very useful for me. 

Umm...what else? Rod Sterling was the host of a show called "The Twilight Zone" that portrayed short stories of weird happenings, kinda life what if? meets Sliders. Very fun show. Arceneaux is pronounced "Arson-Oh" for those of you not hailing from LA. And apologies to everyone who actually liked Episode I. Really liked it, I mean. Okay, on with the fic  
  


(Toad and X-men (c) Marvel)  
  


Dinner and a Movie

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"Still wanna do some more head shots," muttered Gabby. Toad smirked at her and drummed his fingers on her drawing pad. She glared at him. "Give it back already."

"Nope. You're done. I'm done." She grumbled something and settled back to watch TV. Just commercials.

"Come on...I won't make you model for me or anything. I just want to draw," she wheedled.

"No. Now shut up, I like this commercial." He was having fun baiting her.

WHUMP!

A pillow thudded against his face. Surprised, he fell over. Gabby seized her chance and grabbed the pad, hugging it to her protectively. "Mine." He glowered at her from the floor.

"Don't see how you can keep drawing."

"'M an artist. It's all I'm good at," she said simply, flipping the pad open.

"Well stop drawing me." She looked up.

"Why?"

"I don't like it." He hunched over and looked away from her.

"I just want--Ooh, pretty..." She broke off as Verizon Wireless played a Lord of the Rings-themed commercial, commanding her complete attention for fifteen seconds. "I just want one of you smiling. Hell, look in my other sketch book. I've made everyone model for me." 

He scowled at her and she dropped it with a sigh and started drawing the sofa. He just wished he were back at the lair, where things were like they always were. Gabby was...weird. Now there's the pot an' the kettle, he thought, smirking bitterly. Okay, not weird, then, but different. Absently, he wondered if Rod Sterling was standing in the next room in a nicely pressed suit, telling the audience to "picture if they would..." Somehow, he didn't think that would surprise him. A sudden knock on the door, however, would.  
  


"Zoey! Hey!" Gabby opened the door wide and Toad crawled out from behind the couch, mentally cursing being so high strung. A thin red-headed girl entered, loaded down with plastic bags.

"I come bearing food!" she declared. Gabby laughed and brought it to the table. Toad stared impassively at the new girl. Upon seeing him, a flicker of shock crossed her face, quickly replaced with a slightly ditzy smile. She held out her hand. "We didn't formally meet. I'm Zoey Arceneaux."

"Todd." He didn't take her hand. After a moment's thought, he added, "Toynbee." Gabby looked surprised.

"Y'never told me your last name, Todd."

"Didn't ask." He flopped down on the couch. Zoey stared at him awkwardly and he flashed her a cold grin, just to make her uncomfortable. Gabby gave him a disapproving look and took her friend by the arm.

"Zoe, hun. Do me a favor. Tell me what you think of these." She handed Zoey her sketch book and she leafed through the new pictures. Toad shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"Mmm... your anatomy's a bit off on that leg there," she pointed out. "Is that one even humanly possible?" she squeaked, her eyes wide. "I like these poses though, they're real interesting. Mr. Teskey'll love 'em."

"What do you think of..." Gabby flipped to the first profile she had drawn. "This one."

"Ooh, I want..." said Zoey, a grin spreading over her face. "Nose is kinda big, but good expression. He's cute." She paused and tilted her head towards Toad. "Wait...this him?" Gabby only grinned. Toad grimaced and looked away. Zoey laughed. "Oh, you poor thing! I'll bet she made you model all this for her, right? Just grabbing your face and twisting it around so she can get a good angle? She's horrible, isn't she? Looks just like you, though." Toad raised an eyebrow, nonplused. She walked over to him. "Hey, Gab's apartment is boring. How 'bout coming back to my dorm and modeling for me?" she suggested with a playfully seductive grin. Toad felt the color leaving his face. Yes, he now had proof. The world had indeed gone mad. Where was that b*tchy roommate of Gabby's?--He needed someone around who hated him just to help things make sense.

"Okay, that's enough of the Estrogen Brigade for now, Zoey-love," said Gabby, smiling a bit too sweetly and guiding her friend away from the bewildered Toad. He blinked and stood up.

"I'm gonna get a drink," he said abruptly, wanting to put some space between him and the normals. Gabby just nodded and started setting out the food. He fumbled around in the kitchen, taking his time. Even with his back to the living room, he could still hear them quietly talking.

"So, what's he like?" whispered Zoey.

"Mmph." The verbal equivalent of a shrug. "He's nice enough when he feels like it, but he clams up a lot." A soft chuckle. "Can be a real pain if he wants to." A pause, considering. "He's a pretty cool guy, I guess."

Toad checked through the cabinets, trying to ignore them. A few boxes of tea. More of that herbal crap, orange...Earl Grey. He picked up the box and searched for a mug, wishing that the girls would shut up. 'Nice enough?' That was probably the best thing anyone had said about him in a long while. And as to being a pain...who was she to talk?

"He hasn't...tried anything, has he?" Quieter. He almost hadn't heard her.

"He can hardly move, Zoe. Anyway, I don't think he would." Heat the water. Oh he wouldn't, would he? He sneered. They really had no idea of who he was. 

"So, what happened to him?"

"Hell if he'll tell me. I ask him the wrong question and he just glares and sulks." Toad frowned. He did not sulk. He forced himself to listened to the whirr of the microwave until it beeped and he took the mug out, then snatched his hand back, sucking on injured fingers. Hot!

"Still," Zoey suggested slyly. "He's kinda cute, once you get used to--"

"You," interrupted Gabby. "Are a walking estrogen factory."

"And you," countered Zoey sweetly. "Are blushing."

He poured the water over the teabag and got some milk out of the fridge, listening to Gabby's mortified protests and her friend's laughter, neither of which were very quiet anymore. Yup, weird sh*t overload had been reached. Just ignore whatever they said, that's the way to deal with nuts, right? Walking back into the room, he gave them both a sour look that said he had heard everything. Gabby winked at him and turned back to her friend.

"And...he's British," she confided in a stage whisper, causing the red-head to giggle. 

"If you're both done," he said with a hard grin, sitting down on the far side of the couch. Gabby sat down next to him, looking apologetic. He scootched further away and ignored her, blowing on his tea. The sooner he could get out of here to where people behaved normally, the better.

"Look, Todd, we're just joking..."she began.

"Well, leave me out of it." He didn't feel like dealing with her bubbly attitude right now. And he had been right; Zoey was even worse.

"So...what do we wanna watch?" chirruped the red-head, trying to break the sullen silence that had settled over them. Gabby looked at the movies her friend had brought. 

"Mmph, I've seen all these. Let Todd pick." He raised his head with an expression of practiced boredom and studied the movies.

"Eh...I've never seen Episode I," he said. Zoey bounced excitedly, looked ecstatic at the thought of watching her favorite movie. 

"You're not missing a thing," said Gabby flatly, earning a pout from her friend. "'Cept maybe Darth Maul, but the writing was absolute crap. Disgraces the name of Star Wars. Now, y'want an epic..." She grinned and pointed at a green box on the dresser. "Fellowship of the Ring, Extended Edition."

"Extended?" Toad remembered seeing it in the theater, one of the few movies he'd ever bother to see. Magneto had told him that the struggle of the fellowship was akin to their own, the forces of Mordor had been the humans, and the One Ring, the power that the humans held over them. Load of shyte, really, but it had been a cool movie. Zoey groaned.

"Don't let her! It's four hours long!"

"This one then?" He pointed to one titled Dogma--it looked like the only one that wasn't a chick-flick outside of Star Wars. Gabby and Zoe looked at each other and shrugged agreeably.

"Sure. Kinda helps to be Catholic if y'wanna get some of the jokes, though."

"I was raised Catholic." He gave her a wry look. 

"Oh, well, in it goes. Not easily offended by swear words, I hope."  
  


It was funny, he had to admit. He liked movies, when he got to see them, which was rare. Mostly, he was only able to see whatever TNT played. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd seen Lethal Weapon. But Mel Gibson was really cool, so he didn't mind much.

But it felt really weird, wrong almost, just sitting around, watching a movie and eating chicken chow mein with friends (Not his friends, he reminded himself). It was too much like what a normal would do...hell, it was exactly what a normal would do. He felt a pang. Magneto was still alive, whatever had happened to the rest. Didn't that mean he was betraying them? Even if Magneto never escaped (Don't think that! Don't you dare even think that!), didn't he owe the man who had saved him something? Carrying on in his name or some crap like that? At very least, he should not be fraternizing with humans like one of them. Not unless it was for a mission or something. And try as he might, he couldn't possibly see a way that fumbling with chopsticks while Jason Mews cursed a blue streak could help further the Cause.

And then there was Gabby. And Zoey, too, but Gabby was the worst, so far. Treating him like a normal human--well, a normal human and a poseable mannequin. But sometimes she reminded him of... he shook his head, trying to clear out the memory. It wasn't important who she reminded him of. The point was it was wrong. He knew what his place in this world dominated by humans was. Hell, he didn't bother to delude himself. He knew what his place would be even if the world was run by mutants. And it didn't involve people being nice. Bad things happened when people were nice.

He shivered. When had the room gotten so cold? He glanced enviously at Gabby, curled up under a thick blanket on the other side of the couch and hunched over, trying to warm himself. Zoey was giving the television a somewhat glassy look from her chair, as if she was only awake on auto pilot. He yawned and tried to get comfortable.

"Here." Part of the blanket got thrown across the couch. He stared at it, puzzled, then looked to Gabby. "It's big. You look cold." He nodded, feeling kind of fuzzy, and settled it over himself. Well, with all the transgressions he'd already had, one more on his record wasn't going to hurt. If God was planning on smiting the crap out of him for acting like he deserved a good life, then He probably had enough to go on by now. Anyway, he was too tired to care.

"But I have a pretty good idea..." said Bethany on the screen. The movie was going blurry now. He yawned again and felt himself drifting off.  
  
  
  


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Apologies again...Originally this was going to have a lot more action and less sitting around and moping. Maybe I'll go back and fix it when my muse decides to let me. I see him as still being very put off by Gabby (and Zoey now), but I'm having trouble keeping it from being redundant. I really do think part of him doesn't believe he's capable of having a good/normal life...I know people like that. Unfortunately, it gets old. 

Um, Bethany is the main character in Dogma. That's one of the last lines she's saying.

Blearg....back to angst next chapter. Taking a brief glimpse at a very important figure in Toad's past.


	8. Face from the Past

Okay, here we go. Like Hoodoo said, when in doubt, ANGST. Toad and X-men (c) Marvel. Brother Sensei is mine, though.

A Face from the Past  
  


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Toad wasn't sure when the nightmares had started again. The water again. He cursed inwardly as he felt himself drowning, thrashing around in the dark sea of memory and then--

Everything changed.

He was on top of the Statue of Liberty, picking off clueless guards one by one ( Didn't this happen on the mainland? part of him asked, confused). But unlike before, there were dozens of them. After the tenth, one of the guards noticed him and yelped out a warning to his companions, trying to train his gun on the mutant. Toad grinned hideously and flicked the weapon from the terrified officer's hands with his tongue, relishing in the man's expression as he wet himself. Pteh. Humans. Others began shouting, gathering around. Toad's grin widened. All right! Time for some action!

He leapt into the air, landing on the first guard, crushing his spine. Before any of them could react, two vicious kicks had broken the backs of the nearest officers. From there, it was just a glorious blur of movement. Jumping, spinning, striking--completely in his element. He toyed with some, sparring playfully with them before twisting their necks around or striking their throats. And more kept coming. He wasn't tiring at all. In fact, he felt as though he could do this all night. It was his calling; it was what Magneto had told him to do. He smiled at his nearest opponent and watched the blood drain from her face. Now this was something he was good at.

The pile of bodies grew. Carcass after carcass lay strewn over the copper hair of the great lady. And suddenly, there was no one left. Toad stood victorious over his conquered foes, not thinking it odd that faces of childhood bullies and previous assassination hits lay mingled with guards and officers. He grabbed a club from one of the policemen's bodies and spun it around, laughing quietly to himself. See, that's what happens when you mess with Toad. Bloody humans, the whole stinkin' lot of you. Y'thought you all were better than me, didn't you? Well, who's on top now, eh?

He blinked and looked up. Oh, he'd been wrong. One last person stood just at the edge of the bloody pile. Toad grinned menacingly and twirled the club around, advancing. Last one...maybe I can have a bit o'fun. A real fight...

"Mortimer."

His breath caught and he stopped dead in his tracks, feeling as though he'd been kicked in the chest. It couldn't be... He staggered forward like a drunk man, both wanting and dreading to see the man's face.

"Mortie..." The stranger shook his head sadly, his voice filled with love and disappointment. A hiccuping whimper escaped Toad's throat. He reached out a trembling hand and the man cupped his larger, rougher hand around it. He stumbled and stopped. There was no need to see the stranger's face; he knew that hand.

"S-sensei," he choked out, hearing his voice catch. It was so hard to breath. The man smiled and laid his hand on Toad's head.

"Mortimer, what have you done?" The was no anger or accusation in the question, just a father's sorrow. Toad shook his head, his eyes wide and pleading, desperate. 

"I-I..." Didn't Sensei know? He'd been fighting for the Cause, eliminating the humans who oppressed him and everyone else like him. It wasn't his fault, they had started it. They had all...The dead eyes stared up at him reproachfully. No longer were they faceless officers--as he looked at them he saw families, children and spouses and parents, mourning. Each corpse had so many. Every person he'd ever killed, ever wanted to kill, lay in the pile, and each one was surrounded by a ripple effect of grief. Grief he had caused. No! He'd only been following orders, right? He'd been told to do it! Magneto was right and the Cause was right! None of these people mattered in the long run anyway! No... Overwhelmed, he collapsed to his knees. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the ground beneath his hands. "I didn't..." He choked. No! NO! This was all wrong! Brother Sensei knelt down beside him and folded his arms around the child. Toad --nine again-- threw himself into the comforting safety of the embrace, with a sobbing, strangled gasp. "I'm so sorry, Sensei. I'm sorry," he wept over and over into the man's chest. Brother Sensei rubbed his head soothingly.

"It's okay, Mortie. It's okay." Toad shook his head and tried to bury himself in his Sensei's arms. "Shh, now, Todd. It's okay."  
  


  
  


"'M sorry," he mumbled, not yet conscious.

"It's okay, Todd." The soft voice was not Brother Sensei's. Toad blearily opened his eyes, feeling hot tears on his cheeks. Someone was rubbing his head gently, like in the dream. Was it a dream? He craned his neck and squinted out of blurry eyes. The girl...for a moment, no name came, then...Gabby. He was lying against her shoulder and she was holding him as if comforting a child. He stared at her in confusion, lost. Seeing his eyes open, she smiled encouragingly at him.

"Shh...it's okay, Todd. Go back to sleep."

Sleep? Sleep? A look of consternation fluttered tiredly across his face; his mind wasn't working right. Nothing made sense. Brother Sensei had seen him...had seen what he'd become. He closed his eyes as a soft coughing sob forced its way from his throat. Cool fingers on his cheek, wiping the burning tears away and he relaxed, the awful weight he felt lessening slightly.

"Shh...it's alright." It was? Was it really? He couldn't think. Thoughts sank like stones or fluttered away when he tried to grab them. And yet, here in the darkness he felt that, for this moment, maybe, something was right. All he knew was that he was tired, so tired, of hurting. 

"Shh...go back to sleep, Todd." Yes...maybe, for once... He just wanted it to stop.

"'s Mort," he murmured so quietly that she didn't hear him.  
  
  
  


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Yay! We've finaly seen some of Brother Sensei. I have to admit, I like this character and I want to do a side-fic about Toad's childhood and his relationship with his Sensei. It stands to reason that it could be something like that *points up* Toad is an excellent martial artist, and therefore probably had a good sensei and years of training with him as well. Train with a sensei for a long time and you start to respect and love them and want to earn their praise. 

...Maybe I write better when I keep it short...This chapter managed to almost be under 1000 words. I ramble to much when I don't know what to put, like in the last one. Frankly, I think I'm starting to run down a bit, which might be a good thing. This fic as eaten my life for the past 5/6 days, and with a convention and the final LoTR premier *snif* I should try focusing on other things. And then this'll be more fresh. Blarh...sorry, shouldn't write AN's at 2 in the AM.


	9. Hot Showers and Surprises

22 reviews! Wow! Thanks so much, all of you! *feels so loved* Guin...what do y'all say instead of pants? Totally agree with you on syntax and slang, tho. I'm still real wary of using a lot, since Gambit's horribly stereotyped accent scarred me as a child... Um... Poor Toad and his nightmares... The ****** are used to indicate a section in italics, since it's a flashback. And Toad and X-men are (c) Marvel (*sigh*)

Hot Showers and Surprises

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When Toad woke up the next morning, he felt refreshed somehow. He had a vague memory of something happening last night, but only knew that he felt much better about whatever had been troubling him. He sighed happily and smiled into his pillow.

"Hey. How ya feelin'?" He felt a tap on his head and grumbled irritably. Gabby's voice was /much/ too cheerful this early in the morning.

"Mrmph." He raised a hand to swat her away. And stopped, eyes wide as every muscle in his arm and shoulder was caught on thousands of tiny hooks of pain. "Owww......" he managed to gasp. He lowered his arm and groaned. Gabby had been right, d*mn her. An experimental attempt to shrug his shoulders confirmed it. 

"Sore?" He cursed very expressively in response, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. The last time he had been this sore was right after Magneto had taken him in. In desperation to prove himself a worthy soldier for his savior, he had spent weeks doing nothing but hard training. And the time before that...  
  


******

"Come on, Mortie. Ready for a quick jog?"

"Oww...I can't move, Sensei..." A soft empathetic chuckle.

"I told you to cool down before you went to sleep. You're body's not used to training. Is this any better?"

"Ah?...Mm-hm...."

******  
  


"Here." Toad's eyes snapped open. Hands on his back, firmly pressing against his aching shoulders. "Does this help?"

"What are you doing?" he croaked. She continued kneading the kinks out.

"It's called a back-rub. Works best when you relax," she added pointedly. Toad bit his lip. In the past three days he'd been touched more than he had been in the last ten years and it was still new enough to scare him. To hurt. Every time her fingers brushed against his skin without a hint of fear or repulsion stabbed a knife through his heart in a way he couldn't understand. And now...before it had been a methodical touch while tending to wounds, like --and he had to sneer at this-- like any decent human being would do. Or business-like, posing him like a wooden mannequin. Now it was tender, a gesture of friendship. She didn't have to do this; given a few minutes, a half hour at the most, he would be able to rub the worst of it out. But there were her hands, rubbing up and down his back.

"Why--?" he started, feeling a hot pricking at the corners of his eyes. He turned his head angrily, muffling his face in the couch so that the cushions would absorb the tears without Gabby seeing them. If she heard or saw, she gave no sign, but pressed down harder, working out the stiffness.

"Mmph...You've got a lot of knots, boy,"she observed. "Too much stress in your life." He felt himself smiling bitterly through the tears. Stress? She had no bloody idea. He stifled a groan as her knuckles dug into one particularly sore spot below his shoulder.

"Howsat? Better?" 

"Urng...mmph...oh, God, yes," he mumbled into the cushions. Her hands moved to the other side.

"Told ya this would happen. You can't just sit around for three days then do the stuff you did and not expect it to hurt like hell in the morning."

"It was--" A short gasp as she worked at another knot. "--just stretching." She chuckled and said nothing, just kept kneading. Toad felt tears slipping from his eyes and didn't know why, but hated himself for it. Even through all the pain before his burns had healed, he hadn't let himself let out so much as a yelp ('What about that first night?' whispered a treacherous part of his mind. 'You cried then. She helped you then.' 'Shut up!'). 

"I'm not kidding about those knots," said Gabby after a while, not noticing, or pretending not to notice his tears. "You think you'd take better care of yourself than that. Tension like that, it can really mess with your muscles in a fight."

"You try getting hit by lightning and see how bloody tense you are," he muttered. Gabby's hands stopped halfway up his back, his shirt bunched around them.

"You were hit by lightning?" she asked, stunned. Toad grimaced and set his jaw. He'd said more than enough right there. There was an expectant pause until Gabby realized he wasn't going to continue. Growing used to his sudden silences she began massaging his back again. 'I wonder if I'll ever get to really know him,' she thought with a rueful grin. Despite his wariness, Toad found himself relaxing under her hands. 'A bloke could get used to this,' he thought before he caught himself.

After another few minutes, she pressed hard on his shoulders, then ran her hands quickly down his back, smoothing his shirt out and the last of the tension away. Standing up, she stretched and looked down at him.

"Well, a hot shower and a good breakfast and you'll be right as rain." He had to agree with her there. She dug around in her closet until she found a pair of jeans big enough to fit him and baggy enough so that he wouldn't look like a queen (she admitted, with some embarrassment, to having gone through a poser-punk stage her first year in college when he inquired about the pants) and tossed him a clean shirt, then went to fix breakfast.  
  


Toad stood under the shower-head, basking in the steaming water that pelted his loosened muscles. 'Ahhhh... Does anything else feel this good?' he thought lazily. The memory of Gabby's hands on his back came into his mind and he shook his head vigorously, scattering water droplets. It didn't fade. 'Well, maybe that's a close second,' he admitted to himself with a grin.

The hot water felt like it was melting away his problems and sending them to swirl in the drain with the dirt. Hot showers had been one of the first and few pleasures he had discovered since meeting Magneto. He glanced warily at the soap and sighed. Herbal Essences. Of course. It wasn't that he would really mind smelling like a field of "Mountain Fresh Strawberries"--though he would. Very much so.--it was that he was allergic. Most kinds of soap dried out his skin and made it itch and burn unmercifully, and if there was one thing he didn't need right now, it was that. He remembered younger days of looking and feeling like he had a permanent, peeling sunburn--a green one-- before the brothers at St. Augustine had discovered the problem and bothered to amend it (and the latter had not followed the former with any great speed, he thought bitterly). Oh well. He'd have to make do with water and as much vigorous scrubbing as his newly-healed skin would allow.

Out of the shower, however, a whole new set of problems came at him. 

'What am I still doing here?' he thought suddenly. 'I'm fine...just a little achy, and I get tired easily, but there's nothing stopping me from just leaving.' He sighed 'I should, anyway. It's about time...I don't belong here.' The idea of leaving was painful somehow, and he stopped and pondered this sensation curiously, like probing a wound. Why was it so bad? The treacherous corner of his mind whispered a word to him and he frowned. No, that was not right. He growled angrily to shake himself out of such thoughts and dressed quickly.

Walking out of the bathroom, still toweling his hair, he found Gabby staring at the television screen. Two plates of french toast were sitting neglected on the table.

"Todd...I think you should see this," she said, her voice curious and excited. He walked around to the back of the couch and nearly dropped his towel. On the television screen was Senator Kelly. Toad stared, half in wonder, half in fear. So the Senator had survived? When Sabertooth --stupid cat-- had let him fall, Magneto had pretty much given him up for dead and Toad had been just as happy. One last mutant-hating human to have to deal with. His hands twisted the towel angrily--How dare the Senator still be alive when Magneto was in prison and Sabertooth and Mystique were missing...dead? Automatically, his mind began working out assassination ideas, piecing together old plots Magneto had come up with that he had carried out enough times to know by heart. And then he heard what the man was saying.

"...Deeply regret what I have done. Mutants and mutant-rights should be embraced, not oppressed. They are as human as we are. And I will fight with all my power to see that mutants are treated equally." As the crowd erupted into questions, Toad felt his body go slack. He sagged against the back of the couch and felt a daft smile spread across his face. It had worked! Magneto's plan had worked! Even if the whole Ellis Island thing had gone up in flames--or lightning-- at least one thing had been a success. The senator was now an ally. Toad would never go so far to think of him as "Brother," like Magneto had called him, but now, not fully human himself, the senator could not--

On the screen, something happened that no one could have caught. That is, no one who hadn't spent years training against an opponent who could look like anyone. No one who hadn't landed a crucial, painful blow and seen his opponent's incredible control snap for a split second. For a brief moment, when a reported brushed up against his stomach, Senator Kelly's eyes flashed yellow. Toad's breath caught.

"Mystique..." he breathed.

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Mmph, awkward phrasing in some parts... I may go back and re-re-write this someday...just to fix a few things. The soap idea came from a Toad line in Evo: "Ew, I touched soap!" It was too cute not to play with.

Toad: So can I make out with Gabby yet? I'm tired of freaking out every time she touches me. I want some sweet sweet lovin'

Xany: No! *cracks whip* Angst, boy, angst I say! Or back in the playpen with Sabertooth!

Toad: ....alright...


	10. You're Gonna Lose that Girl

Shibby. 31 reviews. You people all rock. Thank y'all so much.

Gah...it's been almost a month that all but the last few paragraphs of this chapter has been sitting on my hard drive, waiting for me to finish it. Bad me and my LotR obsession. Let's see, what needs explaining... The chapter title is a Beatles song. It doesn't quite fit, but it works well enough, I guess. "Katas" are a set sequence of karate techniques, an imaginary fight, of sorts. "Tekki" are a type of kata that involve only moving side to side, while always facing forward, so they don't take up a lot of space. I guess Toad's finally getting kinda antsy (he doesn't seem like the kind who would take being confined very well).   
  


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Once he could no longer hear Gabby's footsteps as she walked to the elevators, Toad let out a deep breath and swore eloquently in every dialect he knew for several minutes. Seeing Senator Kelly had been a surprise, seeing Mystique still alive was something akin to an electric jolt ('Don't think about that, don't bloody think about that...'). So she'd survived. That meant that the Brotherhood still had two--three, if he counted Magneto, which, after a moment's thought, he did. How likely was it that Mystique would leave her leader and lover in prison? Not very, he reasoned.

'So there ya go,' he told himself. 'Just get back to the Lair, wait fer Mystique and Magneto, and it'll be just like old times. Minus the cat, of course. Good bloody riddance.' He stood up and waited for a moment, testing to see if he was naucious or woozy. Hmm...just a little bit, sort of. Kind of wobbly. Then he frowned. He was looking for an excuse to stay. That wasn't right, not at all. Not to mention Magneto would have his slimy green hide if he found out that Toad had been taking his sweet time getting back to base because he'd been camped up with a human that he happened to like--er, tolerate the company of! Toad amended quickly. So he'd better hurry.

But then again, what about Mystique? What was she doing parading around as Senator Kelly? Presumably, the good senator must be dead, or else she had re-captured him. No, Mystique wasn't one for captives; if she'd found the person she needed to mimic, odds were that he'd be dead. So the Senator hadn't suffered any sudden, dramatic change of heart. Toad smirked. Well, so much for that plan, boss.

But what if she'd been caught? Found out? What if he wasn't the only one who had noticed her eyes? After all, it looked like she'd been hurt badly, since, as Toad remembered it, her focus never wavered for anything short of a hard kick to the groin (which, Toad had discovered, worked almost as well on women as it did on men, despite the "Great Equalizer" crap). So she could have had a relapse, or been discovered. Hell, even now, there could be some huge lynching going on, right? Toad sat back down and turned on the television, scanning channels for any news of "Senator Kelly."  
  
  
  


"Hey, Gabby. Are you alright?" Gabby jolted out of her reverie and turned to see a sandy-haired young man with intense blue eyes looking at her, smiling.

"Hm? Oh, y-yes, fine, Jacob," she stammered awkwardly, running a hand through her hair and dragging green paint through the blonde. He chuckled and took her hand from her hair.

"You've been staring at that canvas for almost thirty minutes now." Gabby stole a glance at her primed canvas, the first background coat of rich green long since dry, and blushed.

"Just waitin' for inspiration to strike. Little tired, that's all." She avoided looking at him.

"Too tired to come to the Asylum with me tonight?" The Asylum was a local club.

"What?" Gabby's paintbrush fell from her limp fingers and she scrambled to the ground to get it. Jacob waited patiently until she sat on her stool again. To her left, Zoey paused in her painting and looked at them with interest.

"I'm headin' out to the Asylum tonight for my birthday, and I wanted to know if you'd come with me." Gabby could only stare at his grin and nod.

"S-sure..."she managed, after remembering how her vocal cords worked.

"Great. See ya there about seven, then!"

"Yeah...seven...."  
  
  
  


"Can you hear me now?...Good!..."

Toad fidgeted through another set of commercial. During a day of channel surfing for news on Senator Kelly's new stance on Mutant Rights, all he'd learned thus far was that allegedly, Senator Kelly had been found by the Coast Guard after his helicopter had crashed almost a week ago (Toad felt mildly affronted. He'd been Senator Kelly's pilot for a few months now, and he certainly didn't think anyone would believe that he'd been so careless as to crash). His assistant and pilot had not survived --Toad snickered at the irony of /that/ statement. Mystique/Senator Kelly offered no explanation for his sudden change in policy other than: "Floating around, wondering if I was going to die, gave me a lot of time to reflect on my actions. The more I did so, the more I realized how horribly wrong I had been." Bollocks. As to his stances, the Senator was now a staunch fighter against Mutant registration, and who knew what else eventually. 'Hell,' thought Toad. 'She might actually do what Magneto couldn't...get us half-decent lives. Ch'yeah, right.' After deciding the news was crap, he had tried checking on the internet, only to be dismayed by the abysmally slow connection. 'Guess I'm jaded by the computers back at the base,' he mused while tinkering furiously with the machine. In a half hour he had cleaned up the hard-drive, found a minor virus and stopped it, re-set up her woefully out of date virus scan, and some how resisted the ever-present urge to overclock it. 'I've done it to every machine back at the Lair...couldn't hurt...' The computer ran smoothly, but the internet still didn't tell him any more than the television had, unless he counted the conspiracy-theory sites with headlines like: "Senator Kelly father of Mutant!" "Senator Kelly in torrid love-affair with fish-woman" and so on.

He stretched cautiously. While watching tv, he had done all of his stretches at least twice, and then gone through several of the smaller katas he remembered--the tekki's, mostly--to re-condition his body. The bo in the corner was tempting, but he knew that there was no way he could do more than one move without breaking something. He paused, holding his foot sideways above his head, and smiled, hearing Gabby coming up the hallway. Easy enough to tell it was her; her portfolio was whacking against everything around it and she was humming happily.

"Hel-LO Todd," she bubbled, opening the door and dropping her things. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're in a bloody good mood." She nodded, sweeping off to her room.

"Yup." More inane singing. He shook his head with a smirk and went back to stretching. Gabby came out suddenly, holding two tops.

"Red or black?"

"Huh?"

"Red," she held up the first. "Or black?" Toad looked at her as if she had sprouted another head. 

"For what?"

"I'm meeting a friend at the Asylum tonight." He blinked and cocked his head, squinting. Interpreting his look as questioning, she explained. "It's a club. Don't go much, but he asked, and it's his birthday...and he's got a great smile..."she added under her breath with an embarrassed grin. Toad stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face, then turned his back and went back to stretching with a shrug. She cocked her head and pouted. "Oh, come on, I need help...." She thought for a moment. "You wanna come?" He turned back to her, very slowly, his face barely hiding disgust and anger.

"Wha'the hell d'you think?" She blinked, taken aback, and frowned.

"I think you could be a little more civil, and that you might just have a nice time. It's just drinks and dancing."

"Oh, yeah, they'll let me in, won't they? An' I'm sure I'll fit right bloody in." Now she looked angry.

"Y'know, you're so busy being bitter about the hand you got dealt that you never let yourself have any bloody fun. Why don't you pull your head out of you @ss and stop worrying about what people are going to think?"

"Oh, I'll tell ya why," he growled, getting up and striding towards her. "Because every time I stopped worrying about what you flatlines think, I got the sh*t beaten outta me. Every time I thought that maybe I could have a decent life, like I was a normal, or something, one of you humans comes along and snatches it away, or tries to lock me up, or brand a number into my skin or something. It's always the bloody same! I've learned my bleedin' place, and it's not with you stupid normals! So just go and enjoy your feggin party, but leave me th' hell alone about it!" He broke of with a snarl to rival Sabertooth's and stalked off to the kitchen, leaving Gabby, who had grown dangerously still, standing in the doorway.

"Fine," she said icily, then whirled around to her room and slammed the door. In the thick silence that followed, the tenet below could be clearly be heard telling the "darn kids" to keep the noise down.

Toad sucked down half a beer angrily and nursed what was left of the bottle, shaking with fury. What the bloody hell was she thinking? And how dare she tell him what he should do? She had no idea what life was like for him. She thought she was so bloody righteous. 'Oh, look at me, I'm helping the horrible, ugly mutant that nobody loves. That makes me a good person,' he mimicked bitterly in his head. 'Yeah, that's bloody right. Just keep acting nice, right? Prove to yourself that you're not a bad person like all the rest. I don't buy that shyte...' He was having difficulty thinking of any more coherent insulting thoughts, so he settled for wallowing in loathing and self-pity. 'And besides...' part of him whispered before he could squash it down. 'She'd be there with someone else, so it's not like I would be...'

A loud knock on the door interrupted his sulking.

"Gabs? Open up!" Zoey's voice called through the door. Toad hesitated, not really wanting to deal with the hyperactive red-head, but she kept banging on the door. With an angry sigh, he got up and opened it.

She gasped when she saw him glaring at her from the doorway, paling a little before she recovered her questionable composure. She offered a smile which was answered by a surly grunt as he turned away and walked back to the counter where he'd be sitting, dismissively motioning for her to come in.

"Hey Todd. Gabby ready yet?"

"How th' bloody hell should I know?" he muttered into his beer.

"In a minute," Gabby called from her room. Toad frowned. Her voice sounded...off. Ah, screw her anyway. Zoey flopped down on the couch and craned her head towards Toad.

"So, Todd, how goes?" she asked pleasantly. He glared sullenly at her and grumbled something into his beer. Zoey blinked and turned around to look at him more intently. Toad squirmed, uncomfortably with the sudden, uncanny shrewdness that had entered her eyes. Maybe she was more perceptive than she let on. She opened her mouth, about to say something he knew he didn't want to hear when Gabby walked in.

"Hey, 'm ready." Despite himself, Toad looked over at her. She'd chosen the red top, he noted absently. Her eyes looked...funny. He turned away quickly. Had she been crying? He glared at the wall; he didn't care if she had been. What the hell was there for her to cry about anyway.

There was a perceptible tension between them as Gabby stared at the back of Toad's head, looking as if she wanted to say something. After waiting expectantly for nothing to be said, Zoey jumped up and bustled her friend towards the door.

"'Later, Todd. I'll bring her back tonight, kay?" He jerked his hand dismissively over his shoulder and she shrugged. Gabby stopped at the door.

"Look, Todd..." she paused and he held his breath, eyes shut. "I'm sorry," she said at last, before Zoey yanked her out. As he heard the key click in the lock, Toad let out a shallow breath and opened his eyes, feeling something damp on one cheek.

"Yeah," he muttered to the shadows on the wall, and drained his beer.   
  
  
  
  
  


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Hmm...what's Gabby sorry for? Her really stupid advice? Getting into a fight? Going out with somebody else? I'll bet she doesn't even know. Maybe all of the above. Her advice really was stupid tho. More camp-counsler than what I'd tell a green terrorist who's been hated on all his life, but *shrug* Anyway...

Next chapter: In Vino Veritas (props to anyone who knows what that means)


	11. In Vino Veritas

Alright. Props out to Lonely Shadow Knight and Guin for getting it right. In Vino Veritas: In Wine is Truth/Truth in Wine. However you want to say it. I know it as a quote from Tombstone (great movie), used to mean: when someone's drunk, they're more likely to say what they really feel. *sigh* Sadly, it's not Toad who's drunk. I'd really like to get him drunk too. Maybe later. Um, let's see, I know relatively nothing about actually becoming drunk, so this is more by research than experience. This is one of those scenes that sounds cool in your head, but...ah well.

Toad always seems like the kind of guy who's built up so many walls. The only way to get to the real him would be to break them down, and that tends to be a painful process. I think I'm tired of toying around with him. ...For now. *evil smile*  
  
  
  


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In the next three hours, Toad had gotten up determinedly, paced to the door, dithered for a moment, then gone to sit back down and suck on the last beer in the apartment at least thirty times. He couldn't stand it. 'Why the hell am I still here?' he brooded angrily. 'I should just go. Now's as good a time as any. I won't have to deal with seeing her again or saying anything.' And then his treacherous mind conjured up the image of her face, her eyes, red and damp, staring at him, her lips half-parted, about to speak. What was it she'd wanted to say? In the few days he'd been with her, Toad had never known her to hesitate about speaking her mind. 'Probably wanted to tell me to get th' hell out,' he told himself, smirking without humor. But he knew that wasn't it. With a frustrated growl, he pushed himself up from the counter and stalked towards the door for the thirty-first time that evening. His hand was on the door. Just twist and pull. Twist and pull. Her face. His hands tightened around the knob. Just...

"Urghh." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall with a defeated sigh. He couldn't. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' he thought desperately. 'There's nothing stopping me...' Her eyes. ' No. That's nothing! She's not important! She's just...'he couldn't dismiss her as easily as he once had. 'She's just...some girl. A nice girl... But it doesn't matter!' He shook himself and paced across the room, dropping down on the couch and holding his head in his hands. 'It doesn't matter...

' I don't...

' I can't....'

  
  


The sound of a key in the door startled him before he could finish. He looked up to see Zoey stumbling into the room, half-carrying Gabby. He was on his feet before he knew it.

"What th' hell happened?" Zoey blinked, a little surprised and shrugged as best she could with the larger blonde leaning on her.

"Gabby didn't have too great a night, let's say. And she discovered the stress relieving properties of alcohol. Can y'gimme a hand?" Hesitantly, Toad slung Gabby's arm around his shoulders and guided her to her room. Blearily, she looked up at him and started giggling. Toad squinted and shook his head.

"Cor, how much did she have?" Zoey shrugged unsteadily and opened the door. After realizing that Gabby wasn't moving her feet at all, Toad gave up and simply picked her up and carried her to the beds. "Which one's hers?" Zoey pointed to the right one and he set her down gently, then hurried out of the room, feeling awkward. Zoey closed the door and followed him, flopping down in the chair.

"Oog," she muttered wearily, rubbing her temples. Toad sat down on the couch.

"How much did you have?"

"I dunno, like...three, four beers? I'm just a little woozy. Think I'm gonna stay the night, if that's okay." Toad shrugged.

"So...what happened." She looked up at him, angry.

"Jason is a two-faced @sshole, that's what happened. He invited Gabby out, then not an hour into it, he's makin' out with some slut. I figgered he was a jerk, but Gabby seemed to like him..."

"She didn't take it too well then?"

"Nah. But really, she doesn't drink that much. And I think someone gave her a coupla shots of vodka, too. I dunno, I didn't hang out with them that long. Urgh..." She lay back against the chair with her arm over her eyes for several minutes. Toad fidgeted nervously with a coaster on the table. After a while she stood up a little shakily. "'M goin' ta bed. G'night." Toad nodded and turned on the television.

  
  


An hour later he found himself watching the preview channel. Family Guy, usually such a good way to forget about his problems, had been a mutant parody. 'Seems like everyone's taking a hit on us,' he thought angrily, flipping through the 11 o'clock crap. With a muted growl, he turned the tv off and paced to the kitchen and back. He really needed to leave soon. If for nothing else than to be able to walk more than ten feet without having to turn around. 'I could just leave now.' He looked to the door. 'But...'he sighed'...I should at least tell her goodbye...tell her...'Tell her what? Thank you? Sorry? He knew he needed to tell her something.

A light clicked on down the hall and he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, followed by gargling noises.

"Gah...wha' crawled i'm'mouth an' died?" muttered Gabby, coming into the room. She walked unsteadily to the couch and practically fell onto the cushions next to Toad, who raised an eyebrow at her.

"Shouldn't you be sleepin'?" She glanced at him from under her mussed bangs, dark eyes hooded drowsily.

"Mm. Had a bad dream." A tired grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. "'sides, I had to brush my teeth." She considered for a moment. "I hate beer." Toad smirked but didn't comment. After a few minutes, she spoke again. "I just...don' feel like being alone right now."

"Zoey's in the other bed," he pointed out.

"Mm." She look away and sighed.

"Rough night?" She looked at him sharply--or as sharply as she could. He shrugged, but was feeling vicious enough to press on. "I heard about it."

"Didja hear why he started makin' out wi' tha' girl?" She looked angry but unfocused. "'Heard that he only really wanted one thing? An' when he found ou' that he wasn' gonna ge' it, he wen' off wi' some'un else?" She sighed and slumped forward, resting her head in her hand. Toad wondered if she had passed out when she spoke again. "'Shoulda known he'd be a jerk. Cute ones are always jerks." She paused and looked up at him with a grin. "Even you. 'Specially you sometimes." Toad gave her a pitying look.

"You've had way too much, love." She giggled a bit and mouthed "love" as if it were the punchline to a clever joke, then leaned across the couch next to him.

"Ser'isly," she slurred. "Y'have any idea how cute y'are?"

"Do *you* have any idea how bloody *pissed* you are?" he asked, feeling panicky. She giggled and settled next to him, snuggling against his shoulder.

"Na' pissed," she protested, amused.

"Drunk, love. Drunk," he amended, still tensed. Another set of giggling.

"Oh. Yah. Am. Heheh." She snuggled against him harder, forcing him to turn towards her to get comfortable. She rested her head against his chest and sighed happily. "Keep th' nightmares away, Todd," she murmured drowsily before passing out again.

Toad stared at the girl resting in his arms in fearful amazement. He could smell the smoky bar-scent that still clung to her, and beneath that the strawberry-scented soap she had used. Part of his mind just went numb. A girl, a normal, human girl, lay in his arms, trusting, liking, needing him. He closed his eyes. 'This is enough God. This is more than I ever...'She shifted again, a small, sleepy smile on her face. Looking down at her, feeling a tentative smile cross his own lips, Toad finally admitted to himself why he hadn't been able to leave. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "'Keep the nightmares away.'" She had done that for him. Now it was his turn to guard her sleep. And yet...

And yet that smile, so innocent. She trusted him completely. Granted, it was probably the booze. Toad smirked, hearing the words of Halbert, a bully from his St. Augustine days: "'Yeah, Toady, the only way you'd ever get a girl is if she were plastered!'" Well whaddaya know? The little maggot had been right, just...not in a way either of them had expected. He frowned. And what if she really knew about him? Apparently his appearance didn't repulse her, but what if she knew who he was...who he had been. Would she be as quick to cuddle the terrorist and murder Toad as she was to cuddle Todd? Or just Mortimer?

He suddenly remembered Brother Sensei, trying to convince him to go to confession. "'There are times, Mortie, when you just need to tell someone...everything. God's always listening, but sometimes it helps to tell a tangible human being. Trust me, you'll feel much better once you do.'" A confession. Toad thought back to the last time...a hurried, mumbled thing to a priest behind a screen, only nine years old and feeling the loathing from the man who was supposed to grant him absolution. He shuddered. So much since then to ask forgiveness for. Then again, he wasn't looking for forgiveness. But he couldn't let her lay against him like this, without a hint of fear or suspicion. Not without telling her what kind of monster he was. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and started talking.

  
  


He told her everything. His mother, his name, St. Augustine's. He dredged up painful memories of the first nine years of his life, alone, frightened, hardening to the cruel world around him. He felt a sting in his eyes when he told her about Brother Sensei, the one person who'd ever made him feel loved, feel human. He paused, trying to recollect himself when he recalled the way he'd felt, knowing his Sensei wouldn't be coming back. The night he had run away from St. Augustine's for good. The year spent on the streets. The first person he had killed. As he spoke, the face came back to him. An ugly thug who had a coat. That had been why he'd picked the fight. He was freezing and the man had a coat. And then...meeting Magneto. He would never forget that night. Sick with cold and hunger and fear, and this grey-haired, steel-eyed man offering him the world. He shivered and went on. Training, the rest of the BrotherHood. He told her about each member in detail, suddenly remembering little incidents that shone out from a sea of dark, vague memories, like snapshots of moments, everything else long since faded to grey. He catalogued the missions, listing every person he'd killed, for the Cause, for Magneto, or just because it seemed like what he wanted to do. Looking at the list as Mortimer Toynbee, taught by the only man he might have called "father" to believe in honor and compassion, he found himself sickened. But as Toad, they were just numbers, things that had gotten in the way, a minor problem that he had fixed in the same way that he fixed the helicopter or the A/C unit. Only he'd enjoyed himself considerably more while "fixing" the human problem.

He was at the last mission. The two guards, the last two people he'd killed -'Ever?' part of him asked. Odd, his first kills, the faces, the reasons, the actions stood out so clearly in his memory, but further down, they just faded into a blur. He frowned. He really was a monster. The Statue of Liberty incident now. His battle with the X-men, so close to victory, only to be defeated by the weather witch. The feeling of the lightening. The water, the knowledge that he was going to die, was already dead maybe. Then the blackness.

"And then you found me," he murmured to the top of her head, resting a hand on her scratchy-soft hair. "And now you know what I am." She sighed in her sleep, one hand curled loosely on his t-shirt. Mortimer allowed himself a smile. Brother Sensei had been right. It felt much better. Here, in the dark, holding Gabby, for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he felt at peace.

  
  


He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, half dozing, content. When he finally forced himself to look at the clock, it blinked 4:27 at him. 'So now what?' he thought, feeling suddenly frightened and desperate. 'You've told her everything. Just one thing left to say. One thing left to do.' 'No, I don't want to!' 'You have to.' There was no arguing. He knew what he needed to do.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he picked her up and carried her to her bed. He pulled the covers over her and allowed his fingers to brush against her cheek, tenderly, possessively. He looked at her for a long while, struggling with himself, then bent down and lightly brushed his lips over her forehead.

"I think I love you," he heard himself whisper. The rising slowly, he turned and left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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"But I wanna know for su-ure!" ...okay, maybe that's a bit out of place, but Toad's getting wildly OOC...oh well. Maybe a better title for this would have been "Confessions." But then, that would have given it all away. And let's just pretend that people can temporarily recover from being drunk. Thankies again to all the lovely lovely reviewers.


	12. Itty Bitty Chapter

Itsy-bitsy teeny-weenie chapter...sorry 'bout the month-long delay between this an' th' last. Blame idiosylph's "The Big BrotherHood Program."  
  


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Even without windows, the sound of the new day seeped into the bedroom from outside. Gabby whimpered pitifully and buried her face in her pillow, wondering how late she had slept in. Had she missed her first class? 'Ah, screw it,' she decided, through a haze of pain. 'Ain't no way I'm goin' ta class t'day.' Her head felt as though her skull had suddenly grown twice its normal size without bothering to inform the rest of her head. She groaned miserably and wondered if dying would be less painful.

When she finally dragged herself out of bed and wandered into the main room, it was past one in the afternoon. Blearily she stumbled from the bedroom and headed for the kitchen, feeling the need for the strongest cup of coffee ever brewed by man. She saw a shape sitting on the couch and the events of the previous night came trickling back.

"Mornin' Todd...sorry 'bout last night." She blinked a few times and her vision cleared.

"I'm not Todd." Zoey was sitting on the couch, holding Gabby's sketchbook, a slightly worried expression on her face. Gabby cocked her head, still feeling somewhat fuzzy.

"'You stayed th' night?" she slurred. Zoey nodded. 

"Got up about half an hour ago. You know we missed Drawing 315, right?"

"What a bloody shame," muttered Gabby, walking toward the couch and looking around. "Where's Todd?" she asked at last, her brow furrowed. Something wasn't right here. He'd only been here a few days, but she was pretty sure that she should be hearing him fumbling around in the kitchen, or swearing up a blue streak in front of the computer or something. Zoey bit her lip and wordlessly handed Gabby her sketchpad. She took it, confused, and stared at the page in front of her for a few minutes, the words scrawled messily in between scratched out doodles not making sense, even after she'd read them.

'Gabby'

--(there were several scratch-outs beneath her name, as if the note had been started numerous times) 'Thanks for everything. Really. I'm sorry. About last night and all. Look...'(more scratch-outs) 'I don't think...' (this was struck through). 'I borrowed ten bucks out of your purse. I'll pay it back, I swear. I just-' (scratch-out) 'I have to go somewhere. I WILL' (underlined) 'pay you back. For everything. I'm sorry.' (The next line was nothing but half scratched-out phrases: 'I should te-' 'I wi-' 'I'm so-' 'I lo-' followed by a large frustrated scribble, as if the writer, tired of his inability to communicate in writing, had taken it out on the paper.) ' I'll never forget everything you' (scratched through 'mea-') 'did for me. Thanks'. ( more scratch-outs) 'I lo-- Lo-- Si-- ... Take care,' 

(something scratched through that looked like it started with either an "M" or an "H") 

'T.'  
  
  
  


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Good Lord, I wrote something under 500 words...almost. I think I'm gonna have a heart attack. Next chapter: we get to see some solo-styled Mortie. Heh...


	13. Helicopters and Home

Just a little bit of pimp-age/plugging: Some sketchy illustrations for this story and "I'm Still Here" as well as just Toad sketches in general have found their way onto my deviant art gallery. Eventually I'm going to sit myself down and do some serious illos. (/end pimpage) 

BTW, I write to music, and while it doesn't fit this chapter, the song that I think works well for what both Gabby and Mort are feeling now is Matchbox 20's "Push." Not so much the refrain, but the attitude. 1stpart of Verse 1 and 2cd part of Verse 2 are Mortie, and vice versa for Gabby (2cd of v1, 1st of v2). *shrug* This chapter ended up going in a different direction, but the song works for them anyway, I think. You can bet Gabby's pissed.... ANYWAY!  
  


Toad, Magneto, BrotherHood and X-men (c) Marvel. Jake Falco's mine...wanna trade?

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Mortimer Toynbee --Toad-- walked mechanically down the pavement, avoiding the street lamps and listening to the hollow echo of his footsteps. In the soft, sacred stillness that preceded the dawn, he felt as though he were the only living thing in the city. The sun had not quite risen yet and long, blue shadows crept across faded brick walls and down the concrete before his bare feet. He shivered; despite it being mid-September, the air was chilly and moist. He walked on, lost in his own thoughts, the murmur of the sleeping city rising gradually as it woke to another day. A new start.

And Toad--no, Mortimer--no, Toad-- was determined to treat it like one.   
  
  


Toad fingered the remaining fifty cents in his pocket, staring out of the bus window as the sunlight began to seep over the buildings. Most of the ten he had used at a dingy thrift shop to buy a hooded jacket and a cheap pair of shoes. The rest, except for the two quarters, had gone towards busfare. He self-consciously tugged at the hood, making sure that it covered his face, and kept his head bent. One of his few fellow passengers--a tired-looking woman-glanced at him curiously. He hunched his shoulders away from her and dug a folded-up paper from his pocket. A small twinge of guilt shot through him; the ten dollars mentioned in his note hadn't been the only thing he had stole-'Borrowed! Borrowed!' Carefully he smoothed out the photograph that he had swiped. It had been in the back on a small shelf of photos, a snapshot of Gabby in a black karate uniform-'A gi, that's what Brother-Sensei called them,' he remembered.-- one hand ruffling a blonde child's hair, the other resting casually on a black belt embroidered with gold letters. She was grinning playfully up at the camera. On the back of the photo was written in red ink "Rose's Red Belt Ceremony: 10/24/02." He hadn't really intended to take the photo--he had just been looking at the pictures on the shelf when this one had caught his eye. There had been two copies of it in the frame and without even knowing what he had been doing, he'd stuffed one of them in his pocket. He still wasn't sure why he'd taken it -'After all, I should just forget her and get back to business as usual. She'll probably do the same', he reasoned, folding it up and shoving it back into his pocket. -- but some small part of him was glad that he had.

The bus pulled to a smoke-belching stop outside of an airport. Toad sighed and pushed himself from the cold, uncomfortable seat. He had a long walk ahead of him.  
  


"Falco's Private Air Services and Garage, how th'hell kin I help--" The scrawny, grease-stained man behind the counter trailed off as he recognized the mutant who had just walked into his office. Mortimer raised an eyebrow and inclined his head with a forced, predatory grin.

"'Ello, Jake." The smaller man fumbled with something on his desk and hurried to stand up, running a nervous hand through his greasy gray hair.

"H-hey. Hey," he said again. "I thought youse was all dead or something. Um, good ta see ya alive an' all, T-man."

"I'm sure. And it's Toad." Toad had little patience with the fidgety, fast-talking mutant or the nick-names that he had been given by him since he had joined the Brotherhood. Jake blinked his large eyes rapidly and nodded, bobbing his head up and down, birdlike.

"Right, right. Well, like I said, glad ta see yer doin' all right, and, ah--"

"M'copter, Jake," said Toad, leaning on the desk. "I need it."

"Ah, yeah, well...about that...y'see-" Toad calmly grabbed the man by the lapels of his filthy mechanic's cover-all and narrowed his eyes.

"Where's my copter, Jake?"

"Well, it's just...after Magneto got caught an' all...well, bein' associated wit' you guys suddenly didn't seem like such a hot career move and--"

"Jake..."

"I sold it, okay. Found a nice buyer, hobbyist-type, who didn't ask questions. Whaddaya want it for anyway? Y'haven't used it in months!"

"You sold my bloody helicopter?!?" Toad's fist tightened around the smaller mutant's collar. True, the helicopter had technically belonged to Magneto, but over the past nine years Toad had put so much blood, sweat, and swearing into the wretched machine that he considered it more his than anything. He had learned the basics of mechanics on it. He could always coax it to do just what he needed, or swear at it until it complied. It had been like a pet, a best friend, almost. And now... "You did not bleeding sell MY helicopter!"

Jake cowered in the face of the green mutant's wrath, holding up his thin hands to shield himself, while babbling incoherent but feverent apologies.

"Look, Toad, I didn't want to! Honest, I didn't, but the Feds already started snoopin' around the private airlines. They know I'm a mutant; I'm on their sh*t-list, nothin' I can do about it! If they woulda come, they woulda found that an'...well, you know Feds! If one'a youse guys had left so much as a friggen candy wrapper here, they woulda been able to trace it to youse, an' then where would I be?"

"It's only been four bloody days, Jake," growled Toad menacingly. "No way you coulda found a buyer in that time. You've had this set up for a good long while, haven't you?" Jake's large eyes darted frantically around the room. Toad shook him by the collar once, jolting his gaze back to him.

"Well, maybe I did show the guy around a few times before. He said he liked your 'copter, nothin' I did. Said the engine had been worked on real sweet an' all. Liked the way it ran."

"You let him fly my 'copter?!" The slightly hysterical edge crept back into Toad's voice and Jake cringed.

"Only once. I-I couldn't think of a good excuse not ta let him..."

"Y'mean aside from the fact that it wasn't yours?!" Toad growled again, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With a frustrated snarl he threw the smaller mutant back. Turning, he raked a hand through his hair, trying to focus on what was important. 'But my 'copter...' a tiny voice whimpered. After a few moments of fighting for control, Toad turned back to face the cowering mutant.

"I need somethin' that'll fly." Jake nodded feverently, grateful that he wasn't about to be torn apart by a mutant terrorist that he had personally seen kick holes in uncooperative machinery. 

"Right, right. No pro'lem at all. Jus' you wait, I'll fix you up with somethin' nice. I got this solid little Longbow Apache, military salvage. Runs real nice. An' seein' as how you're my buddy, I'll cut you a sweet deal on her..." Toad crossed his arms and eyed Jake cooly.

"Seein' as how you bloody sold my 'copter, that th' Boss was payin' you to house here, without even so much as bloody asking, mate, I'd say that you owe me the heap, an' then some."

"What, for free? Ah, come on, Toad. Guys like me, we gotta live too, y'know." Toad leaned over the desk on one arm and looked directly into the other man's dark, inhuman eyes.

"Nah, I really don' think y'do."

Jake's face paled visibly, and his already enormous eyes seemed to grow even larger. Toad was almost certain the man was going to wet himself. For about a minute he sat there, staring speechlessly up at the threatening green mutant who was looming over him, trying to form words, but somewhat forgetting how. After a long silence, he nodded shakily and somehow managed to stand up.

"R-right...follow me..."  
  


An hour later he was over the Atlantic, the dull chopping hum of the blades droning angrily in the noonday sky. Toad cursed under his breath and jiggled the wheel. Bloody piece of crap. It kept pulling to the right. He made a mental note to start fixing it as soon as things were back to normal. There was no way it could ever replace his 'copter, he thought with a sense of loss, but he might as well get started now, and maybe by the time Magneto got back this sorry hunk of metal would be sky-worthy. He smiled to himself, mentally cataloguing what would probably have to be done first. See to the steering, obviously, which would mean...Ah, he couldn't wait to be back up to his elbows inside an engine again. Machines were so wonderfully reliable. Even the unreliably reliable ones. Not like people or life. With a machine, all you had to do was find the right part, turn it, replace it, clean it, whatever, and the thing ran like new. It was simple and logical. You just had to figure out what was wrong, what you wanted to happen, and then fixing it was easy. No matter what was wrong, you could do something about it and fix it. It's be so nice if life were even remotely like that. But no...in life, finding out what was wrong was the easy part. And then, good bloody luck trying to fix it. There weren't any set rules for life, no guide-lines, not even so much as a "How to...For Dummies" book. The only thing you could do was look out for yourself and take what you could. Yeah, machines were a hell of a lot better. 

Toad squinted at a dark shape that was growing a little bit too his left. He adjusted his path toward it and grinned as a stark, black island came into focus.

Home.   
  


*******************************************

Hmm...Jake Falco...another one of those characters who just popped up. Hell, once he started talking, he wouldn't shut up. He'll probably whinge his way into "I'm Still Here." ...y'know, I've been going out of my way for the past 12 chapters to avoid having Toad call the lair "home" and then he just does it here to spite me. There was also supposed to be a lot of introspective thinking , but Toad told me he's tired of thinking and just wants to pretend everything's okay...yah, sure, buddy...^_~


	14. Decisions

At long last, another chapter. -cringes- now please stop threatening me with sticks and pudding-bombs.

My lord, it's been three frickin' _months_ since I updated last! That 13th chapter really is the unlucky one--so hard to get past. I swear, I didn't think it had been that long. But school and all. It's my first full week off, and yesterday "Push" "My Immortal" and "Love Song" came on in a row (three songs that I use to get me in the mood to write this particular bit), and I decided it was a sign from on high that it was about time for me to force myself to sit down and write. The first paragraph or so was like pulling teeth, but I think the rest came out fairly smoothly.

A HUGE thank you to everyone who's been reviewing, encouraging or "bothering" (not really) me to get me to keep going. I'd have given up long ago if it weren't for your support, so thank y'all all. big hugs and cookies all around  
X-men and Toad (c) Marvel. If they were mine...well, something would have been done differently in X2....

* * *

After negotiating a somewhat tricky landing, given the ruddy machine's preference to pull to the right, finding the one bleeding secret entrance that was not locked (an entrance that could only be used by someone who could fly, or--in Toad's case--stick to walls), making his way _verrry_ cautiously to the security room, and disabling all but the outer defense systems, Toad finally made it to his quarters. With a sigh, he flopped down onto his bed and lay there limply, relishing in the feeling of being back home. Visiting, vacations, whatever had just happened, those were all nice, but when you got right down to it, nothing felt better than being back in his own room. 

Not bothering to look up, he stretched his right leg out and pressed the button on his stereo system with his big toe. A cacophony of heavy metal pour from the speakers and he twisted the volume up, still using his foot. Muuuuch better. The stereo and his CDs were the only possessions that he really cared about, but they did make the room his.

After he had lain there for a good long while, letting the cathartic sound of harsh rock wash over him, he rolled over with a grunt and stayed on his back, still not moving. Finally, he forced himself into a sitting position and turned the music down. A bit. He stretched and looked around, silently greeting each of the few objects in his room. _H'llo, clock. Hiya, Beatles poster. Miss me, computer?_ Just being back made him feel good enough to forget Ga-- to forget the whole Liberty Island fiasco. He shook himself from that line of thought and sprang off the bed.

The first thing he really, really wanted, he decided, was a hot shower. Then, dinner and a cold beer. Then a nap, and after that, he'd see what came next. He quickly shucked his jacket and paused, looking down at the borrowed shirt. Still clinging to the chest and sleeves were a few yellow hairs. Hers. He picked one off and stared at it for a while, lost in thought. Had it just been last night that she had lain against him, warm and vulnerable, her soft hair tickling his face, the rise and fall of her breathing soothing him to sleep-- NO! He wasn't going to let himself brood like this, he was just going to take the shirt off and throw it in the hamper and..._It still smells like her..._ he thought, with the shirt halfway over his head. Sighing, he pulled it off, but couldn't toss it away. He held it to his chest for a moment, then reverently laid it down on the bed.

The shower was nice. It was a relief to have soap that he could actually use. And shampoo as well, he thought, working up a thick lather and vigorously scrubbing the remainder of the green gel from his hair. He stepped out of the shower, towel-drying his hair somewhat roughly. When he lowered the towel, he glanced in the mirror to see his dark brown hair sticking out in all directions. He ran his hand over it quickly, trying to at least muss it up in the same direction--not that it mattered; without the gel, his hair was a mess-- and flashed his reflection a quick grin. Maybe not so bad...

After grabbing some food from the kitchen, he went back to his room and ran the security scans on his computer. No one had been in the Lair for the past five days. Satisfied that everything was in order, he set up the camera images from around the compound to show up on his screen, alternating every ten seconds, and to alert him if anything moved.

His bed--really just a mattress on the floor--called to him, and he responded, falling back on it and curling around a particularly squishy pillow. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

Toad blearly opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Across from him, the clock read 9:00. Nine AM? He jolted to a half-awake state, starting to sit up and look for Gabby. Wasn't she supposed to be up by now--? Oh. Wait. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head, trying to wake up. That's right. Not at Gabby's anymore. Back at the Lair. Back home. Right? Right. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, sitting up.

A million thoughts flooded his mind, problems with tiny incoherent voices babbling at him. No! It wasn't fair! He'd done the right thing--he'd left Gabby, left the humans. He'd come back...back to the Brotherhood. Back where he belonged. So why did something feel wrong? What was missing?

Well, Magneto, of course. And Mystique. And, sort of, a little bit, even Sabertooth. Wasn't a Brotherhood with only one person. But, he reminded himself, standing up and clapping his hands loudly to shake the last of the sleep from his mind, that was only a temporary problem. Mystique was still at large, and she was almost as clever as Magneto when it came to making bold plans. All he had to do was wait for her to come back, then the two of them could rescue Magneto, rebuild the Brotherhood, and...and...

And there his thoughts faltered. And then what? Take over the world? Eradicate the human menace? Toad had known most of Magneto's plans for the future, enough to know that the "turning world leaders into mutants" was probably the most benevolent idea that his boss would entertain. And now that that had failed--miserably--Toad realized with a sinking feeling which plans they would fall back on once Magneto was free. Things like the Silicon Valley incident. Terrorism. Carnage. Public displays of power. Death tolls. _Civilian_ death tolls. Which might include...

He sat down quickly, holding his head, shaken at the thought of seeing Gabby as one of the faceless casualties of the war between mutants and humans, lying under a pile of rubble, torn up by Sabertooth's claws, or just shot down to make a statement. The idea of her, or the perpetually bouncy Zoey, or the big, cheerful Michael lying cold and still made his already cold blood freeze. What if...

NO, already! He'd sworn, years ago as an abandoned teenager, that he'd never care about another human. Hadn't he seen throughout his life that humans were scum, that they didn't deserve to be considered mutant-kind's equals? Hadn't the humans forced him to abandon his own name, to take arms against them to make them fear the new one they had given him? Magneto was right--when mutants finally triumphed over humankind, things would be better for everyone. Magneto was his leader, his father now. He was right, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

Toad raised a hand to his face, and to his surprise, felt tears there. What was wrong with him? When had things gotten so hard? When had they changed? He knew. The moment that the four flat-scan humans had pulled him out of the Harbor and taken care of him, regardless of who or what he was, things had changed. Images from the past few days ran through his head: Michael and Gabby carrying him into the apartment, Gabby sitting up with him as he fought off old nightmares, Gabby's intense expression as she drew and posed him, Gabby and Zoey laughing and throwing popcorn at each other and him joining in, Gabby's hands running up and down his back, soothing away the pain, Gabby's hurt expression before she left on her date, Gabby curled up against him on the sofa, Gabby, Gabby, Gabby...

"GOD!" he seethed, gritting his teeth and holding his head between his hands, willing his infatuation to die off and leave him in peace. Was this what it was going to be like? Her constantly on his mind, the memory of her touch, her smell, her voice? "No," he said firmly, forcing it away and locking it in the back of his mind with the rest of the memories he didn't want to look through, with a deliberateness that came from years of practice. Whatever happened, she was out of his life. But...

But still, with or without her, something was different. Something in him had changed, somehow. Toad sat very still and probed this new concept with a grim determination.

And suddenly, he knew. A cold, numb certainty settled over him. He couldn't go back to the way things had been. He couldn't go back to Magneto, back to the Brotherhood. Even if Magneto was right about everything. Maybe he was right. Maybe Xavier was right. Or maybe no one was. Whoever was right, the only certainty that Toad had was that he didn't want to be a part of this war anymore.

He swallowed nervously. Suddenly, self-stripped of his purpose, he felt empty in a way he never had. He wasn't sure what to do, where to go, or even who he was any more. Mortimer, Toad, Todd, or someone else? Without Magneto, without the Brotherhood, what was he? Another memory broke free from it's hiding place and floated to the surface of his mind.

_"Mortimer, what are you doing under there? I've been looking all over for y-- who did this?"_

_"M'name's not Mortimer."_

_"Come on, Mortie, let's get you cleaned up. Was it Brad? Or Hal?" Brother Sensei picked up the boy with surprising ease--he was still small for his ten years. "What happened, Mortie?"_

_"It's not Mortie, it's Toad!" yelled the boy, angry tears in his eyes. Sensei put him down and knelt so that he was eye-level with the boy. _

_"What are you talking about, Mortie?"_

_"It's w'ot everyone calls me," the boy sniffled, wiping his blood and snot nose on a filthy sleeve. "An' they're right. I'm just Toad."_

_"Mortimer," Sensei began, his voice becoming stern. "What is a toad?"_

_"It's a gross, slimy frog-thing with warts...like me."_

_"It's one of God's creatures, Mortimer. But it's an animal. What are you?"_

_"A toad."_

_"Mortimer..."_

_"A mutant," grumbled the boy, making the word sound worse than "toad."_

_"A _human being_," Sensei corrected, anger making his voice tight. The boy looked up, frightened, then realized that his Sensei's anger wasn't directed at him. "You're a human being, Mortimer, not an animal. I know at times that there will be people who will try to make you feel like you're less than that, but they're wrong." Sensei's met his eyes with intensity. "You are worth...so much more than they want you think..." He broke off and crushed the boy to him, holding him protectively. A hiccuping sob escaped the child's throat and his grubby hands clung to the monk's robes as he let the tears that had been unshed through his recent beating finally fall. After a long while, Sensei spoke again. "You are a human being, Mortimer. God created you differently, but He has a plan for you. You just have to remember that, no matter what they say. You are Mortimer Toynbee, you're my _deshi_, and I love you. And there's nothing any of them can do to take that away from you, Mortie."_

The mutant called Toad raised a hand and wiped the bit of moisture that had formed in the corner of his eye and stood.

"Mortimer," he whispered to himself. "Well, it's a start."

Mortimer Toynbee hunched over the keyboard, gnawing on his lip in concentration. Hacking was more Mystique's thing than his, but he'd been taught how to make up and switch bank account in case of an emergency. Currently he was in the process of making an account for one "Ian Moore," a pseudonym picked as a nod to one of Sabertooth's nicknames for him for the first couple of years in the Brotherhood. To his dismay, all of Eric Lensherr's assets had been frozen upon his capture, but there were still several accounts for the Brotherhood members under various names, and it was these accounts that Mortimer focused on.

The Brotherhood did get paid. Technically. Many of their earlier escapades had been to build up enough capital to start a decent, respectable terrorist organization, complete with doomsday weapons and secret lair. Mort still remembered days of motel-hopping, eating Chinese take-out in a dingy, 20-buck-a-night room, while planning the next attack. It had all seemed so romantic and thrilling to a seventeen-year old boy, like something out of Treasure Island or Indiana Jones. Those days were long past, however, and money had ceased to become quite the problem it once had been. Each brother had their own false identities and accounts into which Magneto had discreetly distributed money on a monthly basis. It was a formality, mostly. A way for Magneto to show that should any of them choose to leave the Brotherhood, he or she would have something to show for their time spent with the organization to start a new life with. Mostly, between Toad and Sabertooth, the money had gone towards beer, CD's, and porn--the latter being Sabertooth's purchases, of course. Mort flushed slightly, remembering a certain incident involving his eighteenth "birthday."

But now he was taking up on the ever-present offer of leaving the Brotherhood peacefully. Mort leaned back and cracked his knuckles with a satisfied smirk as the last of the money transferred from "Nigel White's" account (Lord, how he had hated that name!) to his new one. With a few, swift strokes of the keyboard, he exited the window and erased any evidence of what he had been doing. Now came the hard part: packing up.

He swivelled around in his chair (resisting the urge to spin wildly) and eyed his stereo system. It was big, the result of years of accumulation of parts. But it wouldn't be too hard to take apart. He bent over it and began unhooking the main player for the system, when he heard a tinny beep from the computer. Quickly he rushed back and clicked on the screen. The motion sensors had detected something. Another helicopter was closing in on the island, circling for a place to land. Mortimer didn't need to see the pilot to know who it was. Mystique. His heart suddenly pounding, he grabbed a change of clothes and an armful of his favorite CDs and shoved them into a knapsack. He could feel the clock set--he was being timed now.

While the actual subject of resigning from the Brotherhood had never come up, Mortimer somehow thought that it would be less than welcome, especially to Mystique and Magneto. After all, he was turning his back on them in a time of need. And he definitely didn't want to be around to confront either one of them. He turned back to the security cameras and cursed. The helicopter had landed--thankfully on the other side of the island--and Mystique had gotten out and was walking around. What was she looking for--? Of course. The spare "key," a sequence of buttons, hidden in the rock face. She'd have to scale about ten feet of sheer cliff to get to them, but knowing Mystique, that would be no problem.

Mortimer cursed again. His original plan had been to leave his room like he'd found it (with the exception of a few CDs that no one would notice), erase any of the security footage with him in it, and leave before anyone was the wiser, hoping they'd think him M.i.A. But there wasn't any time for that. She'd already seen the helicopter; it wouldn't be hard for Mystique to tell that someone had been here, and from there it certainly wouldn't take a telepath to figure out who. So all he could do now was make a run for the back passage he had come in, and hope that he could avoid her. But he'd have to time it right. Too early and she would be able to jump back in her helicopter and give chase, and Mortimer knew that the Apache wasn't up to that. Too late, of course, and she'd see him, and he didn't even want to think about what would happen then.

Sweating, he eyed the security camera. There was about a two second delay, so... She'd keyed in the access code and was sliding down the rock face. Not yet. She paused, looking around suspiciously for something. Or someone. Not yet. She walked in through the door that had opened in the metal "rock." Not yet...The door slide closed. Mortimer held his breath and counted two incredibly slow heartbeats, then... NOW!

His heart in his throat, he bolted for the back exit. He had the sickening feeling of being hunted, which was ridiculous. Mystique might know that he was here, but she had no reason to suspect that he might be leaving. But that didn't stop the image that popped into his head of her chasing him down, face alight with a predatory grin.

After what seemed an eternity of running, he made it to the back exit and tightened his knapsack. With no time to take his shoes off, he'd have to climb down the sheer tunnel only using his hands. Just as he was getting ready to go, he paused. This was it. He'd never had two choices so perfectly laid out for him before. He could just stop right here, turn around, and go greet Mystique. He could just go back to the way things had been and forget about all the confusing thoughts and feelings that the past week had created. He could...but he couldn't. Never again. Slipping down the dark, metal tunnel, Mortimer Toynbee left the last of the mutant known as Toad behind him.

* * *

Well, that wasn't so hard, now, was it. I swear, I'll try and get the next chapter of this up soon. Although... -grins evily- technically, this would be a pretty good place to end it....  
Ohh, but I've got so many plans. To a degree, the major conflict is wrapping up, but I've got this other plot bunny that I'm trying to decide where to put. Either it'll go for several more chapters at the end of this (not likely), I'll make a second part (more likely but iffy, cuz I'm not a fan of sequels to an OC romance, or I'm not sure how much more people'll put up with), or I'll drop it. 

One thing I would like to do is make a sort of trilogy, starting with "I'm Still Here," ending with "A Second Chance," and telling about Mort's time in the Brotherhood as the second part. Wow, if there'd be a more unorganized way to write it, I don't know it, but there are so many plot bunnies hopping around in my head. D-mn things multiply like rabbits. ...wait a minute....

Anyway, thanks again to everyone who's encouraged me to keep writing this. I heart you all so much, and I promise I'll try to never again leave off so long. Thanks, y'all.

Oh, right. M.i.A.: Missing in Action.


	15. Push

ducks in nervously Well, ah…I'm back. Ah….right, excuses. I have three. No, really, I do. This first is easy--I lost my muses. They took a vacation all summer, and left me with a pencil, an empty sketchbook, a computer screen, and the quote "A blank page is God's way of showing you how hard it is to be God." running through my head. The second is that I started college at SCAD, a real art school, and have now realized that the idea of Gabby having as much free time as she did while on a quarter system, in an art school is preposterous. You hit the ground running and weekends are for catching up on sleep, not going on boat rides as she did, or writing anything for yourself, like I wanted to. Thirdly, when my muses came back (midway through the very busy quarter), I remembered something--I had written this chapter long ago, back when I wrote the first two. This had the scene that made me go "hmm…I think I'll write a fic." So I searched for it frantically, but alas, could not find it. So I figured it was on mum's computer and had to wait till the quarter ended to come home and find….it was gone. shrug So, I had to write a new one. Yup. (Hm…and I did so want to find an apropriate Jim Croce song for the title…if that man didn't write the best hopeless romance songs on earth…Ah well, title is reference to the Matchbox 20 song).

So…here it is. I'm not horribly horribly pleased with this one. Not compared to the last chapter. I kinda think I should've left it there, but then, I've never known when to shut up (as evidenced by my AN's). Right.

* * *

It was mid-November, almost three months later, and still it all echoed in her mind. The late autumn wind blew dead leaves around in fitful, dancing gusts. Gabby sat on a bench in Central Park, sketching trees and people for her Drawing class with a fixed detachment, occasionally remembering herself enough to shiver and adjust her scarf. As she scanned the scenery around her for her next subject, her eyes lit on a couple walking, pressed close together and sharing a bulky scarf, laughing happily about something. She looked away and closed her eyes. _Dmn it, _she thought, resting her forehead on her fist. Happy couples were an anathema to her on a good day, but ever since...ever since that night, morning, week, whatever... it hurt that much worse. And of course, they were _everywhere_. She opened her eyes and stared dully at the scrawlings in the sketchbook on her lap. What was wrong with her? Jason had shone himself for the jerk he was--that much she could've handled. But Todd just leaving like that. The scientific method said that the faulty part must be herself...She narrowed her eyes, trying to stay the tears that threatened to gather.

"Told ya I'd pay ya back." A gloved hand entered her line of vision and dropped a handful of crumpled bills onto her sketchbook. She blinked, the voice taking a second to register in her mind. Her head swung up. All she could see was the back of someone rapidly walking away from her. She stood quickly and clumsily, barely managing to catch her sketchbook and close it around the bills before they hit the ground, and ran.

"Todd! Wait! _Todd!_" He stopped, but did not turn. She caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder, uncertainly. "Todd?"

Releasing a long breath, he turned slowly to look at her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. He stared at her for a long time, gnawing his lip nervously. At last he spoke.

"Hi."

The awkward silence took over once more. Gabby could only stare at him, blinking rapidly, as her suddenly blank mind attempted to race and tripped over itself. She had no idea what it was she wanted to say. _Why did you leave me_? was at the top of the list, but she thought she already knew the answer. Besides, where did she get off demanding answers from a guy she'd only known for three days anyway? Maybe "hi" really was all there was to say. Mortimer dropped his eyes and started to turn to leave, and suddenly, she knew that she couldn't let him just go. Still not knowing just what she was doing, her hand shot out and caught him on the shoulder again. He stopped, surprised.

"I, ah..." She withdrew her hand and gestured lamely. "I missed you." Mortimer looked even more surprised. His eyes darted to anywhere that was her as he shifted nervously.

"'M sorry," he mumbled after a pause. Every now and again, he would glance up at her face, dropping his eyes just as quickly.

"You _left_," she said finally, trying not to sound accusing. It was more like a question--a hundred questions--in the form of that two word statement.

"I didn't mean to, I ju--" he stopped, raising a hand and letting it drop to his side uselessly. "I had to."

"Yeah," said Gabby, noncommentally. "In the middle of the night?"

"Technically, at about four-thirty in the morning." He looked up at her with a worried, cynical grin.

"I'm that bad when I'm drunk, huh?"

"Hm?" He looked confused. "Nah. You were asleep most o' th' time."

"Ah. Bet I said some stupid stuff when I was awake."

"Eh...kinda stupid."

"I'm sorry." Now Gabby dropped her eyes. She knew it had been her fault.

"Wha--why?"

"Whatever I said. That made you leave." Mortimer blinked, nonplussed.

"Nah. No. You didn't say anythin', Gabby. Nothin' that..." He broke off and sighed, turning away again. "Look, I should probably just leave you alone and--"

She kissed him.

She spun him around and before he could tell what was going on, she had her mouth firmly over his.

Mortimer stood there for a moment, shell-shocked. _She's _kissing _me, _he thought. _She's kissing _me! _She's_... He closed his eyes and returned the kiss with equal passion. Hesitantly, he circled an arm around her waist and raised his other hand to her hair, holding her close to him. _She's kissing me. Oh God. She's actually kissing..._ Her arms were around his neck, clinging desperately. A tumult of emotions raged through his mind, doubts, worries, passions, but at the center of it all was a sense of peace. _I think..._ He felt Gabby lick his lower lip tentatively, trying to deepen the kiss, and everything suddenly slammed into focus. His eyes snapped open. An image sprang to mind of her disgusted by him, by the taste of him, by everything about him. He was Toad. He was Mortimer now again, for the first time in years, but he was Toad--slimy, green, and not something for a Princess --in his mind-- to kiss. Not like that.

He turned his head to the side and put a hand on her chin, gently pushing her away. Gabby stared up at him, confused and a little hurt. He shook his head.

"Y-you don't wanna do that," he said softly. Gabby opened her mouth angrily to protest, then closed it again with a sigh, and pressed her face against his hand. Mortimer caressed her cheek for a moment, his eyes never leaving her. Then he closed his hand and dropped it, still staring at her. "G'bye Gabby."

"Don't--" The word came out broken, pleading. He paused for just a second, then turn.

"'M sorry..." he whispered to the ground, and started walking again, reluctantly. Gabby stared at a few clumps of dead grass blankly, then raised her eyes to watch his retreating form.

"Hey. You...y'ever wanna stop by, y'know..." Mortimer paused briefly, his back still to her. "Just to stop by or anything like that...well...You know where I live." She shrugged, knowing he couldn't see it, and not knowing exactly what she wanted. Mortimer waited for a few heartbeats, then nodded once, and kept walking.

* * *

That is _not_ the end, worry not. I shall do more, and probably finish this one up at least within the break.

Wow…102 reviews? I can't believe you guys. Thank you just isn't enough. They make my day every time and were the inspiration my muse used to kick me in the pants and force me to write ("Lookit that! Over a _hundred_ reviews! They deserve a bloody update, you jerk! And candy!" "Are they paying you to say this, Luki?" "Wha-no! 'Course not!"). So thank you all very much, and, for fear of having LostMuses' migraines transferred to my nose ( I thought I'd been sneezing a lot recently…), I shall go back to writing now. Hope you all had a nice Turkey Day (if you're the type to celebrate, and if not, I hope you had a very pleasant Thursday).


	16. Ask Me Why

Alright. Going for the home stretch now.  
Toad (c) Marvel.

* * *

Mortimer paced in his apartment, rubbing his hands together furiously and blowing on them in a futile attempt to drive some warmth back into his frozen fingers. Maybe, he thought bitterly, he _should_ have gone for an apartment that had _heat_. But then, it had been a choice between heat or a computer, and he could live without one. He hoped. He cast a sour glance at the elderly laptop that sat on a dilapidated bedside table next to an ancient Murphy bed. Bloody thing barely worked, and the internet on it was slower than a retarded ant. _Deliver me from dial-up_, he thought, rolling his eyes heavenward as he sat down on the bed to check his accounts again. They weren't going to last forever. Hell, they probably wouldn't last until spring. And then what was he supposed to do? Back to pick-pocketing like he had in York? Eh, he'd been a lousy pick-pocket anyway, and back then he had at least been small enough not to be noticed if he found a big enough crowd. Anyway, he was above that. Stuff like that, it was for kids, little boys lost on the street who could barely stay alive one day to the next. And he wasn't that anymore. But what _was_ he? 

"Bloody _hell!_" He slammed his hand down on the bed and cursed again as it hit one of the harder lumps. This was more like the early, unsure days of the Brotherhood, except this time, he had no leader, no goals, and no idea what he was going to do. The idea of not having to be part of the grand Fight for the Future had seemed alluring, but at least serving as a soldier of destiny had given him a purpose in life. And a place with a heater. As it was, he had already spent three months in this crummy hell-hole, trying to "find himself"--or at least figure out what the hell he wanted out of life. He still wasn't sure. He could make a list, but it got hazy once he moved away from the basics. _I want to know that I'll have enough money to eat. I want a place to live. I want to settle down and maybe have a sort-of normal life. I want my stereo-system back. I want a place where I can practice. I want to find someo--Bloody _HELL_ I want some heat!_

Finally coming to the decision that staying in his room was almost as warm as being outside in the snow, Mortimer stood up stormed down the stairs, being sure to stop and give the landlord's door a good glare. He knew he could fix the bloody furnace in ten minutes if the man would let him, but for him to even try would violate some agreement formed only in the crazy old coot's mind and see Mortimer kicked out. And he couldn't risk loosing this place. It had been so hard to find an affordable flat that wasn't a death-trap for mutants. Still, it wouldn't have hurt the man if he would just let Mortimer _look_ at the sodding furnace.

After a brief trudge through the snow, Mortimer found himself in a Starbucks. He sloshed up to the counter and ordered the cheapest thing that was hot. One thing he liked about the weather--it gave him every excuse to be bundled up head-to-toe, so there'd be no disgusted stares or refusal of service to the mutant. Hell, he'd be impressed if anyone could see a single patch of skin on him, let alone remark on it's odd color. He cradled his cup in his gloved hands, relishing in the warmth (while at the same time musing as to how they could refer to anything this miniscule as a "tall" and, moreover, how they could get away with charging three bloody dollars for it), and sat down in a secluded corner. This had been a good idea, he thought to himself, and wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Hell, as long as no one noticed anything out of the ordinary about him, he'd be free to stay here all day. He propped his computer on the table to make it look as though he were actually doing something. He'd only brought it along because he knew better than to leave anything of value in his room. Utterly bored, he found himself playing Minesweeper and sighed angrily.

_I'm in a bloody rut, is what I am, _he thought, glaring at the screen. _And, what's more, I can't afford to be in one._ He sighed into his coffee and let the steam cloud his vision. The more he thought about it, the more unpleasant it seemed, and the more he knew he'd have to get around to it sooner or later. It was inevitable. Mortimer Toynbee needed a job.

But what? Quickly checking to make sure no one could see his screen, he opened up wordpad and began making a list of any skills he could think of. Martial arts, weapons expertise, wall-crawling, piloting... he listed them out as specifically as he could, noting which models of guns and vehicles he was familiar with. After the list went down for about a page, he stopped and looked it over. He snickered quietly and grinned without humor. Well, at this rate, he could hire himself out as a professional assassin, but not much more. Didn't he have any skills that weren't illegal in most states? He sipped at his coffee. Maybe being a bounty hunter wouldn't be too bad. Hell, he knew how to disable most security systems--maybe a professional thief like in that show they used to watch back at St. Augustine's. He grinned. _Heh. Finally, knowing all those bloody saints names that they drilled into our heads could come in useful, _he thought, then frowned again. _But what about wanting to settle down? What about wanting a quiet life. I may not deserve much, but I'd d-mn well like to just be normal for once._ Absently, he clicked and highlighted the lines, scrolling up and down, letting his gaze wander. His eye stopped on a word. He blinked and cocked his head. Hmmm. A half grin formed on his lips. Now that...that just might work.

Mechanic.

It was another idea that he should've had sooner. He blamed the cold weather for slowing him down so badly. So he had a marketable skill that didn't involve killing people or breaking into things. It was still a far cry from having a job. He did an online search of "job applications" and pulled up half a dozen random pdf. forms. A quick glance through each and his heart sank again. He didn't have anything he needed to fill out one of these: no social security number, no visa or green card (not a real one, anyway), not even so much as a telephone number. References? Well, he's served the Brotherhood loyally for nine years. Not like he could put that down. He chuckled at the idea of _that_ phone call--"Hello. This is Magneto, Master of Magnetism." "Mr. Magneto, we're calling about a former employee of yours. What can you tell us about 'Toad?'" "Toad? Ah, yes, hard-worker, good with machines. Excellent pilot, but not too bright. He can kill a man in thirty different ways, you know." Well, even if references weren't necessary, a background check would be. He eyed the question that asked "Have you ever been convicted of a felony? (if yes, please explain in detail)" and frowned thoughtfully. _Had_ he ever actually been convicted? Didn't you need to go to court first? The Silicone Valley incident was the only one he could think of that was connected to his real name, but he'd never been caught. But still...if a background check on the name Mortimer Toynbee came up, so would some sordid details of a heist-gone-wrong in California.

Doing another quick check to make sure his screen was still out of the site of any other , he searched "mutant rights organization" then added "New York" after seeing the list that came up. That narrowed it down somewhat. He clicked on the first one. A website labeled "M.O.N.S.T.E.R." popped up. Toad raised an eyebrow at the name but scrolled down, skimming the page. Some kind of "underground" mutant organization (though how something "underground" could possibly have a website was beyond him), founded after the brutal death of a six-fingered mutant. Read with the right cynicism, the whole thing sounded like a mutant version of the Laramie Project, except you didn't see anyone trying to write musicals about the mutant plight (though Mortimer was willing to bet that, given another couple of years, Andrew Lloyd Webber would at least try and hack something out. Soccer games and talking trains had to be losing their freshness). He clicked around randomly on the site, but it wasn't very helpful. Any useful information such as location, meetings, and contacts had, of course, been filtered out. From what he could tell, the only way to get into M.O.N.S.T.E.R. was to know someone who was already in it. Catch twenty-two. Lovely.

He mulled around on the links page until he found something that looked promising. "Affirmative Action." He knew he'd heard those words before, but he hadn't been paying attention. Fortunately, there was an explanation on the new site. Ah, right. Affirmative action. Making quotas of certain minorities mandatory in the job place. He hadn't known mutants were included in those minorities. He read through the page. Oh. They weren't. Still, the site was helpful and did provide a list of contacts. He was about to click one when he noticed the name below it. Michael Robicheaux. He stopped. Mike. That was him, wasn't it? Gabby's friend. He gnawed at his lip and thought for a long moment, then closed the site and shut down his computer. He sighed and glanced at his watch. He'd been sheltering in the Starbuck's for a good two hours, going on three now. He glanced around, but no one was taking any notice of him. By the unwritten law of the coffee shop, once he had bought something he could sit around in the place all day and they couldn't do a thing about it. Still, he was getting antsy, just staying in one place so long. He packed up his laptop and left. He didn't know where he wanted to go, just that he needed to walk. Once his legs started moving, his thoughts might too.

Without quite meaning to, Mortimer ended up in the same area of Central Park that he'd met Gabby in earlier that week. He grimaced down at his treacherous feet and cast a glare around. At least she wasn't here this time. Seeing here that day had been...it had been hard on him. As it was, it had been difficult just to walk away after paying her back, and he wouldn't've gone anywhere near her, except that he _had_ promised. But after that, when she--he shook his head angrily. She'd made it almost impossible to leave.

His hand dug around in his coat pocket and came up with the now slightly crumpled photograph. He leaned against a lamppost and stared at it for a long time. Gabby. He'd tried to forget about her, or at least excuse his feelings as gratitude. It hadn't worked. He did his best to smooth some of the wrinkles out and smiled--a sad, hopeless smile. Three months. After three months he'd almost been able to convince himself that she was just a rare nice person that he didn't need to see anymore. And five unexpected minutes with her had shattered that hastily built wall. He wanted to see her. To talk to her. To be with her. Now.

He blinked and narrowed his eyes. Well, why the hell not? It wasn't like he was doing anything. A strange rush of freedom washed over him, as startling and heady as it had been when he first left the Brotherhood. That's right. He wasn't doing anything. He had no obligations holding him back, nothing to lose. He could just go by and see her. And besides, hadn't she invited him over. Not to mention-- Mortimer rubbed a gloved finger lightly over his lips, the beginnings of a grin forming. He carefully put the photograph back in his pocket. _She wants me back_ a part of him whispered, daring Toad to argue. Any protests were feeble and half-hearted as the memory of her words and the kiss came blazing into his mind. The grin turned into a triumphant smirk.

"She wants me back..."

* * *

That night, Mortimer fidgeted nervously against the side of the building, still debating whether he should go up or not. He wanted to see Gabby, he wouldn't deny it, but what if, say, Angie opened the door? Or if Gabby had someone else over? Like a boyfriend. He growled and ran a hand through his hair, leaning heavily against the wall. He stopped. Looked up. And grinned. Who said he had to go up the normal way? After removing his gloves, he pressed his hands to the wall. It had been a while since he'd done any serious wall-crawling (he was certain that if he tried it in his apartment building, the whole wall would collapse like a cheap movie set), and the fifth floor was quite a ways up. Taking a deep breath, he started. 

Once he got going, it was easier than he'd thought it would be. The whole rhythm of the maneuver came back to him, techniques practiced so often as to become second nature. He got to the fifth set of windows with no problem, then cursed suddenly. He had no idea which room was hers. Which meant he'd have to try and peek into every window until he found the right one. He sighed and said a silent prayer that he wouldn't get caught. The main benefit of wall-crawling was that no one expected to see anyone on a five stories in the air so no one was really looking five stories up in the air, but that wasn't always something he could count on. He edged over to the window farthest from the street. The sounds of an angry mother shouting at her noisy children could clearly be heard from outside. Didn't even need to look in that one. A quick peek in the next one over and Mortimer hurried away from that window blushing furiously. _Geeze, people. This is New York. Get some bloody curtains if you're gonna be doin' that_. Next window over. Nicely decorated, but definitely not the living room he'd spent three days going stir crazy in. Next one over. Curtains drawn. He cursed and moved on, hoping that wasn't it. Next one over.

Bingo.

Mortimer stopped and stared, surprised by just how familiar the room was and somewhat alarmed by his own pleasure at seeing it again. Memories of those three days fluttered around in his head. He blinked several times and had to remind himself to breathe. No one was in the room. The television was off, the kitchen counter and table were a mess. He grinned. Gabby was not one for tidiness, and apparently her roommate could care less as well. Unconsciously sticking the tip of his tongue through his teeth, he ran a hand over the window, trying to figure out the best way to open it without making too much noise.

"I'll be back by one, okay?" The sudden voice, muffled by the glass, surprised him so much that he almost lost his one-handed grip on the wall. He ducked out of sight, peeking down from the top of the window. Upside down, he could see Angie putting on a coat, grabbing her purse, and finally walking out the door. He let out a relieved breath and grinned slightly lopsidedly. He couldn't believe his luck. The evil roommate was gone. He muttered a quick prayer of thanks while jimmying the window. At last it opened and slid up smoothly and silently. He took a deep breath, and let himself in.

It was much warmer inside--cozy, actually--and someone had been burning a homey-smelling incense. Faint music was coming from the bedroom. He grinned like an idiot, then frowned suddenly. _All right. Breaking and entering. I'm sure that'll look real good. _Maybe it hadn't been such a bright idea. But he was in now, and he wasn't going to just turn back and leave. Silently as a thief, he made his way to the open bedroom door.

Gabby sat hunched over her drawing table with her back to the door, her blond hair gathered up in a messy ponytail from which several stray locks had escaped. The music was some Coldplay song that registered at the back of Mortimer's mind. He wanted to run up to her, tell her everything, hold her, kiss her. But for now, all he could do was stare at her and realize that for the first time since he lost his Sensei, he loved someone so much that it hurt. A new song started playing--something by David Grey--and he stood there quietly, feeling more right than he ever had until it ended gracefully. He took a few quiet steps into the room to see what she was working on so intently. Three small portraits of a young boy, with a grin remarkably similar to Gabby's own, lay on the desk, each done in different colors. The one that she was currently working on boasted dark green skin and gold eyes. Mortimer grinned.

"Intrestin' choice 'a color," he drawled. Gabby jerked her head up and stiffened for a moment, then bent back over her work.

"Yeah, well, we have to experiment with color patterns," she said, waving her off-hand at the other two portraits--one yellow and the other violet. "So don't get any ideas, y'know."

They lapsed into silence. Mortimer stood behind her, hands behind his back, now feeling a little awkward. He was pretty sure this wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Flogging Molly sang about some religious rebellion or other, completely killing the mood. When John and Paul began to sing "I'm Looking Through," Mortimer decided that maybe coming hadn't really been such a hot idea after all and turned to go.

"Wait." Gabby held up a paint-stained hand, still not looking up from the picture. Obediently, Mortimer waited through that song and the next, gnawing nervously on his lip. Finally, Gabby put her paint brush down leaned away from her work, then spun around on her stool, looking up at him with hooded eyes, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

"Well? What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Ah..." What else was there _to_ say? "Well, I'm back."

* * *

One more to go.

Notes: M.O.N.S.T.E.R. is cannon Marvel. Unfortunately, I don't have the book where I read about it (Gen X Crossroads), so I couldn't get names or double-check my info. It's mostly a college club, I think. The Laramie Project is a play about the true-story murder of Mathew Shepard (a young man who happened to be gay) and the subsequent events. It is not a comedy, nor is it a musical, although I now have a few friends who are attempting to turn it into both (should be intresting). Quick side note: this chapter and the next are both named for Beatles songs (as was 10, as Lehcar pointed out), so they might not make sense, but the lyrics work.  
Gabby's reaction may seem cold. My original plans for the whoel reuinion scene were much different. But one thing is--her reaction is fairly realistic given that a)Gabby's nuts. And she likes messing with people. And b) Gab's an artist, current (mid-november) working on final projects. I've been in this mode not two weeks past. You couldn't've moved me from my desk with an atomic bomb.

Right, okay...here goes...


	17. In My Life

_"I'm back."_

Gabby grinned up at him, the cold look dropping from her face like a mask. Before he knew what she was doing, she leapt up from her stool and was in his arms, clinging to him as if she would never let go. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him tightly. The two of them stood in that embrace for what felt like eternity. No questions, no words, just the simple need to be close. Finally, Gabby spoke.

"You came back," she murmured, her voice slightly muffled by his scarf.

"Yeah, well, it's kinda like a cat." He grinned. "Y'feed it once, it'll just keep showing up again."

"Thank God," she said with a breathy laugh. "I missed you, Todd. Don't leave again. Not like that," she mumbled, nuzzling his neck. "I get bored when you're not here. I need you around."

Mortimer didn't respond. Instead he picked her up, ignoring her protesting giggles, and sat them both down on her bed. Gabby rested her head on his shoulder. He took one more moment just to enjoy being with her like that, then took a deep breath.

"Look, Gabby. There's...there's some stuff I've got t'tell you. For real, this time." Gabby looked up at him, kind of confused.

"What kind of stuff?" He sighed, steeling himself.

"A lot of stuff. About me. About who I am." He shook his head. "Y'don't really know me, Gabby. No matter how much," he added, seeing her about to argue," you might think you do. And...well, I wasn't entirely, ah, _honest_, when we first met." Gabby raised an eyebrow and settled herself into a better position.

"I'm listening."

"Well, first of all..." He shrugged. This was the easy part. "M'name's not really Todd. It's Mortimer."

"_Mortimer_?"

"Yeah." He rolled his eyes and shut them in exasperation. Lord, he hated that name.

"So why--"

"When y'asked me, I was trying t'tell you my other name."

"Which is...?" He took another deep breath. _Here is goes_, he thought.

"Toad."

"Toad?"

"Yeah, like, as in the thing that's like a frog but not. It's my name. _Was_ my name, I guess. It's what I've been called since I was fourteen."

"So, which is it, then?" He paused for a long moment, then looked her straight in the eye.

"Look," he began cautiously. "It's a long story, an' it's not a very nice one. I mean it. There's a lot of stuff you'd probably rather not know. D'you really want me to tell you." Gabby nodded, her face serious. "Right. Then, y'gotta promise me that no matter what I say--_no matter what_-- you won't say a word until I'm done. No matter what. Y'promise?" She bit her lip and thought for a moment, something he was grateful for. He'd rather if she actually thought about this than just diving head first without looking. At last she nodded.

"Yeah. Shoot." He nodded distractedly and ran a hand through his hair. It was gonna be a long night.

"Right, well... It's like this..."

He started talking. He didn't go into as much detail as he had when she had been unconscious, but even if he didn't go into every mission he'd been, he didn't glaze over what his job in them had been. It all came out, much more haltingly than before now that he had her earnest brown eyes staring at him, taking in everything he said. Though she had blanched when he first explained that he had been an assassin, she showed little reaction otherwise, patiently--or just plain stunned--waiting until he had spilled his life out before her. What seemed eons later, he finally finished up with his escape from the Brotherhood. He fell into silence, biting his lip and staring at the wall, unable to meet her gaze. After a long, long silence, he heard her draw a shaking breath.

"All right," she said, her voice faint. He felt the weight on he bed shift and glanced up to see her standing, her hand on the desk to support her. "Um...Can you...Can you give me a minute?" Her voice sounded small and far away. For a split second, Mortimer thought to stop her from leaving, then shrugged and nodded. If she did make a phone call to the police or the FBI or the MIB or whatever, it was only what he should expect. And anyway, he could get away before any authority figures showed up. Gabby nodded back distantly, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Mortimer stared after her, then sighed and buried his face in his hands.

In the den, Gabby paced, her mind trying to file and sort everything she'd been told. Todd--no, Mortimer--was a murderer? An assassin? (_Well, there's something of a difference between the two_, part of her mind tried to rationalize.) Toad...she was pretty sure she'd heard that name before. The Brotherhood of Mutants almost everyone knew about now--at least, anyone involved with any mutant organizations. Magneto was still safely behind bars (or behind plastic, as the case were), but no further information had been publicly released about his minions. About Todd. (_Mortimer!_) A terrorist. Oh God, oh God, oh God...She fought down a sudden wave of panic. Oh God. He was a terrorist. He killed flatscans--people like her!--because it was his _job_.

But not anymore, right? He said he'd left. He couldn't do it anymore. Had he been telling the truth? She remembered the way his golden eyes blazed into hers and thought back to the man she'd known, if only for three days. No. There had been no lie. Only fear. Fear of her, of what she would do. He'd trusted her with his secrets. He _trusted_ her. Could she honestly do any less? For another fifteen minutes or so she paced, still placing, rationalizing, thinking. At last, she came to a very simple, if somewhat alarming conclusion. It was too weird. It was nuts. It gave her every reason to question her sanity. But it was true. She loved him.

Finally, the door opened, startling Mortimer out of his own musings. He looked up, eyes darting, searching for some evidence of a terrified phone call to the authorities. Gabby sat back down beside him and grinned. It was a weak grin, but an honest one.

"So..." she said at last. "Mortimer huh?"

"Mm-hm." He nodded, confused, wondering were this was leading. Gabby's grin widened and she met his eyes. She reached out and laid her hand on top of his.

"So, can I call you Mort?"

**End**

* * *

Wow.  
End.  
Heh. Can't believe it. I can't believe I finally finished. Well, finished in a loose sense, since this one little thing that started out as a lark has turned into this huge multi-booked novel in my mind, and, being the fussy child it is, it probably won't let me rest until it's all out. End. Wow.  
And, just because I have an overdeveloped sense of the dramatic, finished a year to the day that I first made an account to house the strange story that was the result of X-men just happening to be on one night. Crazy.

I really want to thank everyone who reviewed. I said it before, but it bears repeating: If not for you all, I probably would have lost stamina, declared this a waste of time, and never finished. You've all been incredibly encouraging, fun, and just all around wonderful (and you've all put up with my abysmal updating schedule). It's so nice to know that you're not alone with a Toad obsession. Leen713, Hoodoo, Guin, angelfish2, Shadow, CyborgSmeet, Lonely Shadow Knight, Shitaka, Victoria to Worthing, Kernl Toad Sandrz, LostMuse,whiskey lullabye, and everyone else... you all rock. You rock the socks of the whole world.

So, what are Gabby and Mort gonna get up to? There's the thing. I've got a "sequel" planned; I have since the week after I started writing this. My only problem with writing it is a lot of the angst seems gone (and angst drives a story). Oh, there's still plenty of angst, just different flavored. And I'm no to sure about having a sequel with a romantic O.C. But I have no shame, so it probably will go up eventually. So that's what you all get for encouraging me. Fear the monster that you have helped create.

No. Seriously. Thanks for making this a great year for writing. Peace Out.


End file.
